


Too Metal to die

by cutestormsloth



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Doof is so smol, Doof lives, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guitars, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kittens, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nux Lives, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Virginity, cinnamon roll Doof, guitar hero is not that badass, lot of people survive, mute Doof, virgin!Doof, war rig crash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:56:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutestormsloth/pseuds/cutestormsloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving the terrible War Rig crash, Doof and his loyal drummer Fiesta deserve new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survivors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geckos_climbing_pole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geckos_climbing_pole/gifts).



> ^ ^ Thanks to mangalho.tumblr.com for letting me use their Drummer's names, i love them:)  
> \- and for the future's chapters, some OC credits go to @Geckos_climbing_pole / all-doofed-out.tumblr.com who makes the sweetest warboy OC's ever.

"Boss! Boss!"  
It was the first thing Fiesta thought when he heard the metal crashing and he saw the Doof wagon becoming one infernal mayhem. Amplifiers flying in the air, construction falling down like a house of cards - Fiesta saw it in slow-motion. A vehicle from behind them could not slow down and crashed into them. One drummer's seat got loose and the drummer, Fiesta's mate Berserker, was swept under the wheels of the car behind them, so quickly he didn't even scream. Eduardo, the youngest drummer, reached for him with his arms, but a piece of construction fell right at him and pinned him back to his drum like a butterfly that Fiesta once saw in Miss Giddy's room. Machina yelled something and jumped sideways out from the wagon. Fiesta did not see much from his seat on the back of the wagon, trough the tiny holes in his wooden mask, but he smelled the fire and heard the metallic screeching and knew that they were going to die. Boss! Boss is in the front!  
Fiesta followed his brother and rolled over from the still moving rig. He fell into the hot sand and started fighting with his mask. Panic didn't allow him to easily undo the leather straps.when he finally made it and threw the piece of wood with fake mane of hair away, he finally saw what destroyed them. The monstrous carcass of a War Rig was lying on the side, pierced by the cabin of the doof wagon in the middle of the cistern. Amplifiers were lying all around in the sand. One half of bosses guitar hung from one bungee chord, swinging wildly, going up, down, up, down, like a menacing yo yo.  
"Boss! I'm coming!" Shouted Fiesta from all of his lungs, not caring that the Doof Warrior cannot hear much anyway. He got on his feet and started running along the crashed rig, avoiding falling wall of speakers. He spotted the red figure! Doof warrior was still hanging on those ropes attached to his hips, head down, legs down, as if broken in the middle, and the ropes were making him bounce around just like his guitar did, just in different rhytm. His bald head was hitting repeatedly to the wall of remaining speakers, back and forth, back and forth. It was like a scene from Fiesta's wildest nightmares. But Doof was not dead. His hands were grabbing the air blindly in confusion. He was searching for his quitar. Or his mother's face. There was a lot of blood. It was, crimson and glittering, also on the speakers he kept hitting into.  
"Fi!" He heard somebody. "Fiesta! He's hurt fucking badly!" It was Machina's voice. He was on the other side of the Doof Wagon.  
"He's alive! Let's get him down before all this shit explodes!"  
"Climbing up!" Shouted Machina back.  
Fiesta started climbing up the wreckage to Coma's little stage. Machina caught the limp body flying around on ropes and prevented him from another hit to the wall.  
"Got him. Undo the bungies". Fiesta's fingers were struggling with the buckles attached to the belt Coma wore under his red suit. With horror he noted that Boss's hands were no longer searching. Once freed from the bungees, he fell into Fiesta's arms lifeless and surprisingly heavy for such a little man.

They laid Coma in the sand, in a shade of a big rock. In the background they saw a group of confused war boys running towards the wreckage and yelling around.  
"It's the war rig!"  
"Where's Gigahorse?!"  
"Immortan' s dead! I saw it!"  
"Nonsense!"

Immortan... Dead? Fiesta froze with his trembling hand on Coma's pulse. The Immortan is dead?  
"Did you hear, mate?" He whispered. Machina was still masked, but he too seemed frozen in time for a while. They both looked down at the bloodied eyeless face of their Boss.  
Fiesta felt a light and silent drum of Coma's heartbeat under his fingers. "He's alive..." He whispered and squeezed the guitarist's gentle hand. A cough shook the red-clad body and a fresh string of dark red blood came out of his nostril. The drummers could not tell how serious could be his injuries. It will be hard to tell even when he wakes up. Blind, mute and partially deaf Doof warrior will not tell much. The wet, dark spots of blood on the red fabric on were growing on several places, but not quickly, not too much. The left wrist seemed to be in very unnatural position. His fretting hand. Pieces of the flaming war axe were still hanging from the ropes on the wagon.  
They have to get him home. There still has to be home. The Immortan can't be dead.  
"Mac, go get some water. Go ask the war boys... Go check on there. Bros are in Valhalla, I saw it.I' m gonna stay here with him and try to stop the bleeding." Said Fiesta

Coma kept waking up to pain and passing back out. His ears were blasting the monotone high pitched screech, the one he was used to, just much more loudly, like a convoy of pursuit bikes in his brain. His neck and head was pounding with ridiculous amount of sharp pain. He felt he was not hanging up on the wagon. It was soft under him, soft and hot. Was he in his bed? Why does he hurt so much? He had no idea. Just a glimpse of memory reminded him that long hot day on the road, that cold night waiting while vehicles were stuck in the mud, the slipperry stickiness under his feet when they released him from the bungees to have a break. Then again the hot sun, terrible mistakes in his drummers' rhytm and a man on board... That sudden rough touch from a man dressed in smelly leather. Fire all around... And Somebody taking his guitar from him and punching him in the face. Then Coma remembers nothing. And he is not sure if all this was real or a dream. Somebody is now holding his hand, the one which does not hurt like hell. Oh, he remembers! He is back home in the cave, he is lying in his bed and his mother is holding his hand. He's just had a bad dream, that's all. He'll wake up and the pain will be away.

Fiesta was waiting for Machina to come back with water and news, having stopped bleeding on Coma's forehead and left arm. His skin was warm and his heart was beating steadily. Good. Holding his hand gently, Fiesta tried to focus on the dialogues coming from the wreckage, echoing in the canyon. Thanks to the war boys being unusually loud people, he could hear a lot.  
"Holy smeg. It's Nux!"  
"I thought he fell from the rig. Joe mediocred him. I was right behind..."  
"He's breathing, look"  
"Yeah but he's fucking stuck there."  
"Traitor!"  
"Gonna chainsaw him out."  
"He lived on bloodbags couple of moons now. He's at the end. Let him go out to Valhalla."  
"Too mediocre for Valhalla... Hand me the saw. "  
"Did you see Slit?"  
"No, not around here."  
"Valhalla for sure..."

Fiesta realized that he knew this Nux they were talking about. Eager fanboy who would step behind Coma's doors for hours. Pretty blue eyes full of wonder. Two tumours with rhyming names crushing his collarbone, and he had the tendency to introduce them cheerfully when he met someone new. Talented hands forever stained with motor oil, was it the boy who even learned some basic guitar chords from Doof? Fiesta thought so. Yes, it had to be this Nux. The saw started screaming. Coma coughed again breathlessly. His lips were so dry they were cracking bloody. Where is Machina with the damn water? 

Another voices echoing the canyon.

"I lost Rictus!!"  
"Shit! Try to restart him!"  
"I ain't no Organic!"  
"Witness!"

So Prince Simpleton, as they called him for fun, is dead, thinks Fiesta. Such a bloodbath it has been over the escaped breeders. All the damage, all the wasted lifes... His two brothers... The prince... Maybe the king is dead too. Can they even return to the Citadel? Coma needs a mechanic. They must not stay here much longer. Rock riders are all around with their shotguns.  
Finally, Fiesta thought when he saw Machina and two war boys coming, carrying a car door.  
That young war boy in shorts, Timmy, Fiesta thinks, handed him a flask. He put it to Coma's lips and Coma drank and coughed and moaned. He was awake - good, good.  
They strapped him to the car door and laid him next to the other injured men. Fiesta was horrified by the sight of them. So many blood and bones sticking through the white coated half-life skin, makeshift bandages holding that insufficient bit of poisoned blood inside their veins, grunts and cries and searching eyes. One pair was bright blue. Nux, otherwise inrecognizable. It was easier to watch them die jumping to the flames or being smitten by the storm, quick and clean and heroic, than this. And according to the boys, Joe was really dead. The one who gave them home, water, home and purpose, was gone. Their father. But it was not time to cry. Now that the injured warriors were stabilized, it was time to count the loss, salvage the functioning vehicles, clean up the canyon and head to the citadel, which may still hopefully be a home. Fiesta left Coma unwillingly and followed the other survivors heading to the wreckage. 

Coma felt sorry for himself. He was fully awake already - not that anybody else could tell - and he knew this was no bad dream. He felt the broken bones and he was pitying himself so hard that he would cry if he could. His left hand- the one that gave his guitar tones, that gave HIM a voice, the hand that gave him POWER- he could not move it now. Doomed to be silent forever? Locked inside this body, this dysfunctional machine ? With no mother to take care of him and hug him? He felt his hot, salty, sticky tears of selfpity running through his nose and down his throat and choking him. He could not move his head so he had to swallow it. 'It's not fair' was the refrain going inside his mind. Why him? Why must HE be injured, miserable, helpless AND as a bonus, in so much pain? He just wanted to play. He did not believe in Valhalla. He wanted to LIVE and PLAY.  
The despair lasted hours and hours, and Coma could not bear it. Not that he could do anything. Those hours felt like weeks. Occasional sip of water and hand on his forehead, then they were fidgeting with his broken arm and it hurted like hell, and Fiesta was stroking his cheek to comfort him. Smell of Fiesta was unmistakeable. Good old silly Fiesta, always so caring. Coma has always found his care a tad annoying. His drummer tying his shoes? Coma could do it himself! Leading him everywhere? No need for that. Helping him dress up. He admitted he needed that sort of help, but still. He could do it, what's the problem if his suit was inside out? Or the wash day... Or Fiesta trying to feed him like a baby...unbearable. Now Coma was glad that caring jerk was here. At least his ears were starting to behave and he could finally hear the world around him, though muffled and quiet in comparison to the screaming clacson in his head. He understood that a long way awaits them. To avoid going insane, Coma decided to do that old trick he used to do when he felt alone and desperate in the cave after the Her death. The trick that he did his first days in the Citadel, that made Organic Mechanic think he's in out of his mind. The trick was to travel far, far away. Far from the wreckage, out of the Wasteland, to his own world, full of sweet smells, soft touches and music. When he came back, he felt the familiar clicking of the Citadel elevator under him. His dreamworld fell apart and all the pain was here again. Coma the Doof Warrior survived the War Rig crash and got home. He felt a little proud of himself for that, when the clicking stopped at the Citadel's highest floor and he heard the familiar buzz.

Machina passed out from exhaustion and thirst on the lift and he joined the wounded on the gurneys. Fiesta was kneeling between him and Coma and he was so, so tired, that he did not care anymore the Immortan was dead. He saw Furiosa, their new leader, standing there on the balcony, letting them up - looking really messed up with that black eye, but tough and just and confident - and he just accepted her. His only goal was now to make his Boss feel better. He could not look anymore at Coma's face full of dry blood, and the painful expression on his face, when the grimace of his mouth almost resembled a smile, but he knew it was not.  
There was mess in the entering hall. Lot of unknown faces and lack of those Fiesta was looking for. Organic Mechanic, they said, did not make it back, nobody knew if he died or was still out there. Somebody took passed out Machina inside. Fiesta was kneeling by Coma's side, eyes searching for somebody to help with the Doof Warrior.  
"It's the bard!" Somebody cried out when they finally noticed. A fat woman in white, her eyes met Fiesta's. Is she one of the milkers?  
"Yes and he needs a doctor!" Fiesta yelled at her.  
"I'll send for them" she yelled back and dissappeared in the excited crowd.

The blood shed was full of people, rushing around injured survivors. There were only three medics, Organic was either dead or lost somewhere on the Fury Road, nobody knew. Fiesta saw new people, strange looking wastelanders from who knows where. An elder women dressed in rags and leather, hairy dirty men, together with milkers and breeders, helping with the new delivery of wounded soldiers. He noticed Nux full of tubes and wires and a red haired girl sitting at his side crying. Ozzy, a young Red thumb war boy came with a box of medical supplies and the dark haired milker, the one from the platform, appeared with a bowl of water and some rags.  
"Doof! Doof can you hear us?" Shouted Ozzy into Coma's ear, ignoring Fiesta's presence. The response was a wide grin and a painful moan. "Can you tell us what hurts?" Shouted Ozzy again. With a pitiful expression the musician raised a shaking hand and touched his head, traced his neck down to his chest and hips and ended up pointing to his feet. He basically said, that everything hurts. He didn't help the organics much with this answer, but it was true. Everything was fucking hurting.

Fiesta knew that the Doof Warrior could be a bit of a drama queen, because he's seen him laying in bed with headache or runny nose, acting like he was dying. 

Fiesta stepped in: "He crashed his head against the amps many times, and his arm's broken. You see, we made a splint", he pointed to a screwdriver attached to Coma's wrist with strip of black rag. 

"He was secured by the bungees, I have no idea how did he bounce in there when the cars crashed."  
The Red thumb nodded and started cutting Coma out of his trademark red suit. The milker wiped all the paint and blood from him, leaving the water a murky reddish brown. The injured man twitched with pain when the rag ran over his ribcage, revealing his whole left side was black and blue with bruises. Fiesta felt his pain and could not bear the sight.

"Hey, organic. Give him some painkillers, can you? He's not... The strongest. I know him very well." Said Fiesta.

"Oh V8, Drummer, look around you. Burns, missing limbs, we don't wanna waste supplies." Said the red thumb and grabbed Doof's arm to reset the broken bones. Few quick and not very gentle moves and the bones settled to their correct place. Coma could not scream, but Fiesta knew he definitely would have. The screwdriver was replaced with something only a bit more professional and Ozzy was in the middle of wrapping the limb tightly when someone yelled from the other side of the bloodshed:  
"We need some help over here NOW!!" 

Ozzy the red thumb excused himself to do the emergency case and left Fiesta and the milker standing there over poor Doof.  
"You must be tired...should have a rest." Said the milker.  
"He can't hear you, you must talk louder." Said Fiesta absentmindedly.  
"I was talking to you." She smiled, "I am Molly"  
"Fiesta," he looked at her, surprised.  
"I'll give the boyo some morphine as you asked. But quiet, I stole it." She whispered and from a little bag she was hiding under her dress she dug out a small syringe. Did she really call the Doof, who is at least ten years older than her, 'a boyo?'  
She smiled at Fiesta and she had the greenest eyes he ever saw. 

They had to lie to Ozzy the Red Thumb when the morphine kicked in. Fiesta said it was normal for Coma to laugh like madman when he was in great pain. Doof warrior was generally perceived as crazy, so it was not so suspicious. When he was finally all bandaged and splinted, Coma was released from the blood shed, because somebody who has his own room and his own bed and no really life threatening injuries does not have to take the space in the medical room. Also, a real bed that Coma had, was much softer than a stone bench of the Citadel's hospital. He also had a hammock in his room, in which he was normally sleeping, but it was not that good idea to put a drugged blind man with broken ribs and arm, a concussion and whiplash and a "bit fucked up foot, it will mend" into a hammock over a meter above the ground.  
Ozzy said Doof could try to walk by himself, but Fiesta lifted him up and carried him carefully trough the corridors and then laid him down on the old soft mattress, put enough pillows under his back and covered his broken body with two warm blankets. Coma was asleep in a minute.

Then Fiesta went back to the corridors and back through the blood shed, which was still buzzing with busy workers and wounded war boys, but that was not where he was going. He passed the medical room and stood before the altar of holy V8. He wanted to pray for the souls of his fallen brothers, fellow war criers from the band. Eddy and Berserker, let them beat the drums on the highways on Valhalla and McFeast with musicians of all times. When he bowed down to pray, somebody's hand landed on his shoulder. It was Machina with almost no war paint left, looking tired as hell too.  
"I guess our band split up, brother" he sighed sadly.  
"We can be an unplugged trio" muttered Fiesta bitterly, thinking that the soul of the Wagon and Coma's amazing guzzoline-powered flaming war axe must be in Valhalla as well. Maybe Jimmy Hendrix was now shredding on the axe. Both drummers were silent for a while, staring at the altar.

"How is he?" Asked Machina suddenly.  
"He'll mend. But you know that even a common headache can knock him out. This will take a long time to heal. He'll go insane. How do you feel?"  
"I'm OK, they gave me plenty of Aqua Cola. Where is he? The Doof chamber?" That was how Citadel inhabitants sometimes called the room, from which they could hear the most peculiar music.  
"Hmmm" Fiesta nodded. "And he's high as a polecat. A Milker gave him morphine. Do you know them more closely? I mean milkers?"  
"Nah...not really. Everybody knew Big Lexus but she died over 300 days ago. Don't know the others," Machina said.  
"Said her name was Molly," muttered Fiesta thoughtfully and a mental picture of her beautiful green eyes appeared in his mind.  
"Couln't you pick a better day to fall in love?" grunted Machina rolling his eyes.  
Fiesta grunted as well and tried to change the topic.  
"Need to check on Boss. Come with me, he'll be glad to see you when he wakes up." he said.  
"Yes. And talk about the weather, you asshole. Ok, let's go." Laughed the taller drummer bitterly.  
Fiesta, who was closest the the Doof, used expressions like "look" "see" or "me and Coma talked" quite naturally when referring to the blind and mute man. Others made a lot of jokes about it or found it a bit offensive.

When they entered the chamber, Coma was lying in the bed awake and naked, blankets down on the floor, big dopey smile on his face and he was tracing the texture of the bandages on his chest with his fingertips, probably fascinated with the texture, still high on drugs.  
Without his menacing mask, without the red suit, his guitar or his war paint... He looked so... Small and pitiful. Fiesta covered him back up and Machina sat on the bed and put Doof's hand on his own face, so Doof could see who was visiting. Coma's smile got wider, he sat up with a tiny painful moan and gave his drummer a clumsy one-armed hug. His pale hand found Machina's dark brown and with a bit drugged, but correct morse code Coma tapped on his palm "Ed?" "Be?".  
"Boss, they didn't make it. I'm sorry." Said Machina loudly so the guitarist could hear properly.  
Coma fell back on the mattress and the smile was gone, nose already running.  
His fingers found the wooden frame of the bed and he tapped "mama?"  
The drummers looked at each other. Fiesta put a handkerchief in Coma's hand so he could wipe his tears. "Boss, well, we were looking for her. We couldn't find her. We tried!"  
Coma nodded sadly and wept, blowing his nose loudly.  
After a while he tapped "axe?".  
"Cut in half, Boss. I'm so sorry. The guitar was what broke your arm."  
Coma tapped "Fck"... Then after a while he added "Not worth living" which was quite a long speech for him. The drugs probably just wore off.  
"We can repair it or make a new one, we promise." Said Fiesta diligently and patted Coma's bandaged head softly.  
Boss shot that sarcastic grin at him. There was still some more bad news to tell and Fiesta thought it was better to tell it all at once. He swallowed and with trembling voice he started "Immortan Joe... Joe is dead, Boss. Rictus as well. Imperator Furiosa is in charge from now." Coma froze. After a while the morse code said "let me alone."  
Drummers looked and nodded at each other and stood up to leave the room. They understood their Boss was now so struck by all the tragedy and he wanted to mourn alone. They would go to their room and would be just behind the thin metal wall in case he'd need something. When they were at the door, Coma's fingers tapped again, loudly this time. "Fi" he wrote. "Stay" and after a while he added "afraid".  
Fiesta sighed. "You know i'll never leave you" he said and climbed to the hammock. He hung his arm down to Coma's and soon they both fell asleep, holding hands.

 

A knocking on the door woke Fiesta up. He jumped out of the hammock, quickly checked on sleeping Coma, and ran to the door. The green eyed milker, Molly, was standing there with a tray full of food. Two bottles of milk, two pots of aqua cola, two bowls of porridge, two spoons and a plate of vegetables.  
" i heard you were staying here," she said shyly, "...and I brought you two a breakfast. And I have some new painkillers." She made a dramatic pause and stuck a hand under her blouse between her huge breasts. A flask appeared. A rotgut!  
" for body and soul," she smiled. "May I come in?"


	2. Somebody's in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this Chapter, Doof reveals he's got a mysterious stalker and Molly and Fiesta tell each other a bit about themselves. Insight into Milk mother's and Doof Drummer's life and some more adorable!Coma being cared about.

Coma woke up, smelling some good meal. There was Fiesta in the room, talking with somebody, laughing quietly, and Coma decides not to let them reveal he is awake yet and use the time to contemplate yesterday's events. So, he was drugged. It actually felt amazing, it took away the pain and his hearing somehow got miraculously better. His head was spinning and he was laughing at the blood shed, yes. Then he somehow got here to his room, cannot remember how, and he was here alone. But not really alone. Coma remembers hearing somebody breathing, feeling some presence... Smelling a war paint? Maybe. He was half in dreaming but this felt somehow ... real. Then he tried to get up and find the stalker, but his head was spinning and it felt so funny, even the pain in his body felt funny, and he only managed to lose his blanket and fall back on the bed. Then Fiesta and Machina came, and they told him the terrible news. That Joe has died, and so has Ed and Berserker. Coma remembers his drugged mind turning from happy psychedelic trip to anxious darkness instantly. The feeling of a silent, unknown person in the room was no longer amusing, it felt unsafe and frightening and he felt -and he actually was- helpless. And then he remembers Fiesta holding his hand.

Now, as Coma woke up, he feels his mind already clear and his body already painful again. All from yesterday is one weird blurry memory, a fevered dream. Coma would like to pretend sleeping for few more minutes, but...

Fiesta's hand touched his and a familiar voice yelled into his ear: "boss, you awake?"

Ok, no more faking. Fiesta, the clever bastard, can tell and there's no fooling him. Doof nodded a little, sharp pain buzzing through his injured neck as he moved it. 

"How do you feel?" Asked Fiesta and automatically checked the temperature his boss's forehead.  
Coma sighed, shrugged and started tapping on the bed frame: "shit but better"

"Ok... That's ... good, I guess? I'd like you to... Meet someone, Boss. This is Molly, Molly, this is Coma, the Doof Warrior" said Fiesta loudly and a new, soft, small hand appeared in front of him for a handshake. Doof shook the hand weakly, without interest.  
Then the two started to fidget with his pillows, forcing him into seated position on the bed. Doof was in no mood for meeting people and being social, no. He wanted to lay down and think, he had almost fucking died and they want him to sit, shake hands with people and eat with manners. But he was also very hungry so he obediently accepted helping hand and the spoonfuls of mashed maggots that were delivered straight to his lips, deciding not to fight his loyal caretaker this time to demonstrate his full capability of feeding himself. With body aching with the slightest move and only one hand to use, Fiesta's attitude came in handy. He even got him milk and sweet fruit and a tiny cup of alcohol. Not bad, thought Coma, and gave his drummer a weak thumb up gesture before laying back down, tired again.

After breakfast they went to get him some new clothes since Doof was still naked under the blankets and his beloved comfortable onesie was in Valhalla too (they said it was red. Coma had no idea what red was but he assumed it was a compliment, so he hoped that whatever they would find for him would be red as well). And maybe it was really hard task to scavenge for red clothes in the citadel's stock, because Fiesta and this Molly woman were away for very long time. 

"So are you two, a thing? I mean you and Coma. You are so nice to him and so caring" said Molly when she and Fiesta were alone in the Citadel's clothes department of the stockpile. The clerk on stock duty, elder ex-wretched with one eye, was sleeping at his desk.

"No," Hurried Fiesta with answer. "Me and him are not a ... Thing. I am not sure he would...even know what a 'thing' should be like. He's ... Ugh... damaged a lot. His life..." Fiesta sighed, "was hard. And he is my boss. And he needs help with stuff. My brothers, they are... They were... In other duties too. Machina is our technician. He works a lot in the repair bay, on the Wagon or other cars. He can make the sound system work and all this magic. Berserker had a lift patrol duty as a war crier. Eddie was a part-time green thumb. When we don't beat the drums on the wagon, we have other jobs. And mine is to help Boss with all the things. I taught him to write the morse. As a pup, i hung a lot around the lookout post and I learned the signals. I thought it could be a way for him to communicate. As he started going deaf as well, it appeared to be very useful. In his worse days, we use morse too. We tap it into his palm."

"Oh..." Looked up Molly, knowing she is looking at a very kind and compassionate man "that is great of you. I can't imagine... Being like him. You must have been very patient teaching him."

"He could still hear well at that time, he just couldn't speak, and he's damn clever, but still, he got angry often," Fiesta smiled and traced a faded scar on his cheek. 

"He did that..?!" Squeaked Molly with surprise. Now she was sure she was looking at a man who should be canonized as a saint.  
"Yeah... It's nothing. Drummer's life is a high life. I owe him that."

"A milker's life has benefits too. But I am afraid I owe it to Joe's cruelty," Said Molly - carefully, knowing that those boys still worshipped the fallen Immortan.

"How come?"

"Before that, I was a breeder..." Said Molly and she took a deep breath and started telling her story.  
About her being fourteen years old orphaned scavenger, standing on a platform full of hope about her future life in the Citadel. Then being locked in the room together with a group of melancholic, silent, broken women. Then giving birth to two stillborn babies and one full life girl, whom she loved and nurtured, but her baby was taken by imperators at the age of one and most likely sold to Buzzards as a peace offering and instead of her daughter, a doll was handed to her and a sucking mechanism was adjusted on her achy, lactating breasts.

"I was wondering where all the girls go" Fiesta interrupted her.

"It's not all of them. Most children die immediately, boys or girls. Others are mutant. If a mutant is your third strike, you're kicked out amongst the wretched with your child, no asking. There is not many healthy girls but they are usually sold. And the half life ones, who look normally and still grow hair, are claimed to be healthy and are sold too. The hairless half-lives become regular war pups. Very few of them survive to be war girls. Healthy child is a prized article and some tribes don't have breeding program. They buy children to survive as a society." She explained.

"So they took her from me and I became a milker. Few times a day sitting hooked at the milk machine, otherwise we take care of the war pups in the kennels. Some milkers have their own half life children there. They' re lucky. I forgot how she looked like. She's out there in the wasteland, if she is alive... " said Molly darkly but then stopped.

No, she does not want to depress Fiesta. She looks to the bright side. Always. 

"And then our life also gives us a lot of food and water, you know, to have the milk, and a lot of drunk harassing imperators. Not war boys, no. You guys are mostly satisfied with one another." She laughed. 

"And as a Milker, I also mastered my greatest talent." She added mysteriously. 

Fiesta looked curious.

"Steeeeaaaaling..." Whispered Molly dramatically.

She grabbed Fiesta's hand and inserted it between her breasts. With a totally confused expression he wiggled his fingers and besides getting aroused from her hot, soft, marble-white skin, he found a shiny ancient clock. 

"Wha-what?" Chuckled Fiesta.

"It's his." Whispered Molly and pointed to the one-eyed stock clerk.

They began to laugh... And then they kissed. It was so spontaneous they didn't even think. They were kissing and laughing until they fell into the soft pile of scavenged clothes, and then they kissed and laughed some more.

 

Coma was laying in bed in the silent room, listening to the imaginary sounds in his head and his mood was oscillating between depressed, bored, annoyed. In the depressive phases he was still mourning Joe and Eduardo and Berserker. In the other phases he was missing his mask and his guitar, and of course, his healthy arm. He would kill for a piano, which could be played one-handed. He was most annoyed by the fact that he will have to lay down like this for a damn long time before he heals, and most likely he'll be either left alone or pampered and coddled by annoying guilt-ridden Fiesta, who is right now cheating on him with his new girlfriend.

Doof could be blind and deaf and mute and currently bedridden but he knew exactly what was going on. Fiesta was undeniably in love with a young Milking mother named Molly and feeling a bit guilty about spending time with her outside Doof's room. And so he overcompensates by bringing him tons of new (red?) clothes which Doof cannot fit over his wrapped up arm, and cooing around him for the rest of the day like a hen. (Doof had only a bit more precise idea about what a 'hen' is, than what does 'red' mean).

And so days past for Doof in this monotone, mediocre fashion. 

But as his head was getting less and less dizzy from the concussion and his hearing was getting sharper, he noticed he probably hadn't been dreaming the first night about a stalker in the room. Every time his drummers left, Coma felt a stare on him. He tried to observe carefully and was determined to catch him. Walking was painful and not easy but Coma was practicing every time he was alone. And the ghastly presence never appeared before he was huddled back in bed. He even found weird objects after some of these visits. A feather, a smooth little ball of glass, some folded piece of paper... 'Peculiar', Coma thought, 'but at least this is quite amusing in this never ending boredom.'

And at the lower floor of the Citadel, certain war boy went to sleep every night with fresh images of Doof warrior in his brain, in his dreams, on repeat. The Doof warrior he's admired ever since he first saw him shredding on his mobile stage, the Doof warrior he keeps seeing these days during his secret visits. Fragile and weakened, but still beautiful and fascinating. With those graceful hands, long, strong fingers made for music and full pillowy lips, which, if they haven't had contained a set of jagged messed up teeth, and weren't stained by few scabs that seemed to be returning on the right side of his mouth, those lips looked like the lips of Immortan's breeders. 

And this certain war boy would close his big grey eyes every night and imagine those lips on his own.


	3. Poor Doof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... i made myself sad today. Doof, my precious son, i can't be more sorry! Everything will be kittens and nothing will hurt - soon, hang in there, sweet rocker!
> 
> Adorable polecat Gecko and his friend Tally, Chass and Hams belong to Geckos_climbing_pole (all-doofed-out.tumblr.com)

Now it is the right time, my dear stalker, thought Doof. Now I'll catch you. He was shuffling around the room on his splinted foot, searching with his one useful hand for the stalker, which seemed to be a ghost or liquid or something. Every time Doof almost got him, already felt his -rather heavy- breath, the heat of his skin, the smell, the mass of his body filling up the air of the room and he reached arm for him, the mysterious man disappeared. But now Doof was sure. The stalker was UP. Above him. There was this little window which Doof could reach from his hammock when he put it higher and stood in it and he was sure he would reach the boy now as well, and then shred him... Or scare the hell out of him so he'll think twice about stalking the Doof Warrior! And then laugh about it.

Doof reached for the hammock automatically, as he's climbed it million times. With certainty he grabbed the rope with his good hand and swung himself up. But what he was not expecting, was a terrible sharp pain and a series of cracks in his still unhealed ribcage, which didn't withstand the unusual stretchy move and made him lose all the power immediately. And if he could see, he would see his fall in slow motion, the shock of pain making his hands give up, losing the rope, the hammock spilling his feet out, and he was falling down, and he tried to keep himself up with his other hand, but that was the bad one, it could not reach the ropes, it just hurt as hell as he tried to stretch it against the splint, and he anticipated what pain would come next when he would crash to the floor... But he landed surprisingly softly. Into a pair of strong hands that magically appeared under him only a second before hitting the floor. He did not understand the situation at first. Searching frantically, he found a face, a child's face, lip piercings, shaved head, crust of warpaint with sweat soaking through, a muscular lean chest with wildly beating heart...

The warboy says nothing and seems to be in a shock too. He is trembling, his hands are vibrating, but he is still holding Doof tightly. And they remain like that for a while, both recovering from shock. And then this warboy's hand holds Doof's hand and trembling fingers sticky with sweat softly stroke Doof's palm, it is a nice touch, so gentle and filled with strange electricity of longing, and Doof suddenly wants more of this, but then the door of the room open with a creak and two voices scream: "Boss!" 

The drummers tore them apart and Coma felt Fiesta's hands on him and the mysterious warboy being dragged away by Machina. "What are you doing here?!" Coma heard him yell from distance. "What's your name?!" The boy was silent and Coma could imagine him shaking. "Better speak, warboy" hissed Machina aggressively and the boy answered something, voice so thin that Doof couldn't understand.

"Are you all right, boss?!" Asks Fiesta while helping Doof back to bed.  
Doof coughs but nods quickly, because he does not want to put the strange boy in danger. The truth is different. The sharp pain from the fall is gone but his chest feels pretty weird again. The same kind of weird he felt down there in the canyon after the crash. That is twelve days ago. He should not have jump there so stupidly.  
Machina drags the poor warboy out, not listening to Coma tapping that the boy 'helped' him when he 'tripped'. 

The window-climbing attempt and the boy's fancy in stalking may remain a secret for the greater good, thought Coma and hoped that the boy could slip out of Machina's rage just as he always managed to disappear from this room.

Fiesta was confused by this situation completely. Why did he find Boss with terrified face on the floor in some dirty war boy's embrace, who looked just as terrified and was barely able to speak? Doof was breathing heavily, his head bandages were loose, falling over his eye sockets, as if he's been fighting with the boy. Gecko his name was, "G-g-gecko" to be more precise, that's what the guy managed to say. Probably a Gastown boy with weird tattoos and quiet voice and big eyes avoiding contact.

Fiesta sat on boss's bed and squeezed his hand. "Are you SURE you are ok?" He asked.  
The morse code said. "Yes. All OK" and as a proof Doof smiled at him, the dorky grin full of those horrible, but oddly cute teeth, the smile that Fiesta loved to see (and only a thought about never seeing it again was breaking his heart). It was only twelve days ago when he almost lost Boss, ten days since they got here.

"I think we can remove that anyway" said Fiesta and started unwinding the loosened bandage to reveal the familiar weird-shaped bald head. The bruises were barely visible and the wounds looked fine, healing well. Doof touched his forehead gingerly and smiled again.

A long series of morse signals came from him, explaining today's situation again: "I tripped. Went to loo. He helped. I am Ok. No fuzz pls."

"Ok... Do you need something? Hungry? Thirsty? Sleepy?"  
Doof nodded to the latter with apologetic smile. 

So, to the bed they go. Fiesta jumped to the hammock.

 

Meanwhile Gecko in the Garages finally unfroze from his stupor after he fled from that angry drummer. The image of falling Doof repeated in his mind over and over. My fault my fault my fault, heard Gecko his brain lament. At least he managed to catch him. At least Doof is not hurt more. Hopefully. But he got the Drummer's point. He knew he was being creepy again. He knew he tends to stare. He knew his obsession with Doof Warrior may be stupid. That Doof will never love him back, since he's awesome rock god and Gecko is just awkward and creepy polecat with a problem. Since Doof is blind and Gecko is invisible, since Doof can't hear well and Gecko can't speak loud, he can't speak at all actually, he's stupid stupid stupid... Gecko never felt smaller. Doof will never notice him again. This was the only chance and now Gecko is forever banned from that part of the Citadel. 

He crawled out from his hideout and approached his team-mates Chass and Tally, who were working on a vehicle and Gecko saw them all blurry through tears. He is going to tell them what happened. He's going to tell them all and ask them, those normal, not chronically shy people like him, if they think he's got any more chance with Doof. If they laugh at him it can't humiliate him more than he already was today. But they probably won't. They're good mates and they tolerate his bullshit.

 

Fiesta laid asleep in the hammock until weird wheezing sounds woke him up. He was at boss's side as quickly as flash. Coma's forehead was dripping sweat and he was catching his breath difficultly. And his fingers tapped between the wheezes. " i lied. Not ok. Ribs hurt bad"  
Without any other asking, Fiesta picked his poor little Boss up, being very careful not to harm him more and they rushed to the blood shed once more.

 

Gecko just finished his story in tears and Tally offered him a hug. Chass was trying to come with a solution for a second chance. "So you say he lost that guitar, too?" he asked.  
"Yes he did, but didn't you listen, he fell and then they found me there..." Sobbed Gecko.  
"Make him a new one. A guitar, i mean." Suggested Chass. "You'll get the parts, I'll construct it, Hams will weld it together. Shiny and chrome and sexy as Tally's legs, huh? Easy peasy."  
"Yeah," seconded Tally, nodding. "Hell yeah. Do it and he's yours"  
It was not a bad idea. It was actually pretty awesome idea. Gecko will design the most beautiful guitar for Doof and he will leave it with a note. In stood out morse code. Doof himself will find him to thank him and even the Drummers can't be angry about it. Yes. Gecko loved his mates.  
"Where's Hams?" He asked. He wanted a comforting hug from his big bro.  
"Blood shed" said Tally. "Having a top-up...He must be back here in any minute."

 

The Blood shed was quiet today, calm day, when Fiesta rushed in with Coma in his arms. "Something's wrong with Doof, I need an Organic now!" He shouted. Few boys looked up.  
"Capable, shiny, please, get Maddie" Said one of them. It was Nux, half lying, half sitting in a real, metal-framed bed in the corner close to the entrance to the chapel. And Capable, that red haired breeder, stood up and approached Fiesta.  
"Please lay him over here", she instructed. "I am Organic's new apprentice. I'll get her immediately."  
Her?  
An old, sun tanned woman with goggles came in. "Broken ribs can get complicated" she said calmly. How did she know !? She was not there those twelve days ago. There was Ozzy last time!  
"Purified air, Capable" she instructed the girl and probed Doof's chest and back without undressing him. "Hmmm... That's a lot of fractures and he must have moved them really badly. I think i need to discuss this with that horrible jerk." She said and turned to Capable with a disgusted grimace.  
"I'll bring him" said the redhead.

In a while she returned followed by - Fiesta could not believe his eyes - "Organic! You came back?!"  
It was him, just skinnier and sun-blistered and looking like he's been through a lot. He grunted in consent. It was very obvious that he and the Vuvalini doctor hated each other passionately, but they had to cooperate and learn from each other. He shot a killer look at his colleague but softened when he saw Coma.  
"Ooooh, isn't it my favorite mutant boy? Looks like we're gonna cut."

Then he shoved Fiesta aside and while Capable was pumping pure air into Doof's lungs, the two medics were arguing about options. 

"His chest is fucking crashed, how's your herbs gonna help?"  
"You never even CLEAN your scalpel."  
"You gonna kill'im with your hocus pocus"  
"No YOU will kill him with your filthy knives and bloodbags!"  
"Witch!"  
"Butcher!"

At the end they compromised on keeping Coma in the room overnight to observe if or how badly the ribs damaged his lungs and decided to do something about it in the morning. For now, a filtered air bomb, similar to those that Rictus used, managed the worst.

 

"Hey guys, guess who was just admitted to the blood room?" Reported Hammerhead already from afar, as he was returning to his crew in the garage. "It was Doof."  
He knew what Gecko's reaction would be like. Wide eyes with question marks.  
"Pretty fucked up, poor guy," continued Hams as he approached the group. "I know them only masked, but his drummers are those big black guys, aren't they? One of them brought him in. He said he tripped or something. Looked much worse to me. He couldn't breath!"  
Gecko's watery eyes went even wider and his face turned a whiter shade of pale than his war paint was.

 

Weird night for Fiesta just started. Machina heard the news from somebody in the garages and came to blood shed too. While comforting Boss, they decided that from now on, they'll never let their eyes off him until he's fully recovered. They agreed on taking turns by his side for whatever long it takes before he's safely back on his feet. They will not let anyone in the Doof chamber and will assist Doof with everything so no accidents like this can happen anymore.

Fiesta was feeling very, very guilty and ashamed, for hanging out somewhere with Molly when Doof needed him. He failed his job.

Coma, the man of extraordinary sixth sense, must have read his mind, because his hand found a stone with good acoustic and started tapping morse code. "Not your fault Fi. Mine. I lied twice. Did not trip. fell from hammock. am stupid. boy came and helped."

The mention of the hammock terrified both drummers. The 24/7 watch duty is more important than Fiesta thought. Doof needs to be protected not only from dangers of the citadel, but also from his own dumb ideas. Machina apologized to Gecko in his mind. 

Doof tapped again, and his nose was starting to leak water around the air tubes. He was crying.

"i am sorry. For all," he wrote.

Fiesta looked at him silently. This is the first time ever that Doof apologized. Fiesta was used to his anger, mean jokes, his melancholic phases as well as his manic fits of workoholism, Fiesta was used to being used, being fighted, mocked, ignored, and he never complained, he never REALISED. His eyes teared up. He buried his face into Doof's pillow.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Coma. It's OK..." He whispered to his ear, massaging gently little circles into his shoulder. 

It wasn't Boss now. It was Coma, his friend.


	4. Music in the Bloodshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter has kind of a messy plot, but there's Nux and we'll get to know how Slit survived Fury Road and there is Capable being musical with Doof ... And of course there is the lovely drummer Fiesta taking care of his smol hurt Boss. Gecko meanwhile found something very special but that will be in next chapter:)
> 
> Gecko and his team (Hams, Chess, Tally) belong to all-doofed-out.tumblr.com

"Half life's bones" said the old female organic "as you call those poor irradiated things" she gestured towards the few war boys on benches receiving blood, "heal badly. Sometimes the blood is poisoned, sometimes it's the bones. He," she looked at Coma, "needs to wait and not move it at all. I'm not cutting him open to risk infections, as your dr. Piggy would do. Gonna wrap him up some more. The chest may need 12 weeks as he's fucked it up again. By the way, the arm should be good in 6 and the foot in 4 to 6 weeks I'd say. You two, now help him sit up really straight." And Machina and Fiesta took a confused-looking Doof from each side and were quietly watching the old wastelander wrapping his torso in clay-soaked strips of fabric. 

They did not notice a worried Gecko craning his neck from behind the water pipe under the ceiling. He and Chass must start working on the guitar as soon as possible.  
They have 6 weeks to make it perfect. Perfect for his beautiful rock star, who's been through so much. Gecko just wanted him to be happy.  
There must be a raid planned. New Citadel, new rules, dozens of cars totaled on the Fury Road, new need for new supplies. Gecko thought that this must be the right opportunity to climb from other raider's view and scavenge for guitar parts.

Without a sound, like a lizard, he climbed the water pipeline away from the blood shed and he jumped down at the entrance to Imperator's chamber.  
He's going to be helpful to the new regime by organizing a small supply convoy.

 

Organics wanted their emergency bench to be emptied for next case, so Machina went and brought a metal bed for Doof from the depository - as Citadel was being cleaned and rebuilt and all the furniture moved, such things were to be found from old Joe's chambers. Doof laid on the bed really carefully, worry in his face as he feared to move at all, afraid of messing with his broken body again. He had to stay in the med bay until those layers of clay get dry and until his breathing improves and then some more time just to be watched, to prevent any other complications.

Next to him... There was laying Nux.  
Nux the traitor, Nux the revolutionary, Nux the war hero, as you want.

For Fiesta, it was Nux the Stupid Asshole, whose war rig gig sent poor innocent Eddie and Berserker to Valhalla and poor innocent Doof to sickbed for months. 

Fiesta knew Nux was planning to die out there. He's been at the very end of his half life for some time already, and still was somehow mysteriously indestructible. 

Fiesta remembers the noise of the saw screaming in the canyon. War boys chainsawing Nux out from the rig. He looked at Nux and wondered if he was whole under his blanket. With mixed feeling towards him, he took a moment to study the kid's state. There were the shiny staples on the top of his head, holding together giant scar. There was this ridiculous neck brace. There was this shape of his legs under the cover, and one of them seemed much shorter. Not whole. There were the missing teeth. There was this ghastly, yellowish gray face, those black circles enhancing the blue of his eyes, a natural war paint of his terminal sickness. 

And yet, Nux seems full of life. Playing with his hands, smile on his face and a bit too loud and inappropriate greeting: "Oy, Doof! Oy, drummer! Lovely to see you!"

Fiesta sighed. He did not know what to do. Half of him wanted to strangle this idiot war pup right now and here, the other half could not hate him. He chose to not say anything and just focus on Doof. So he huddled him up in a warm fluffy blanket, adjusted the air filter, adjusted the pillow and then did it all over again... And Doof had question marks in his face because he could feel Fiesta's nervosity. And Fiesta would do anything just to ignore Nux. But Nux didn't want to ignore them.

"Doof, hey! You thirsty mate? 'Ve got plenty of 'cola!" He said happily and a hand with a flask of water appeared above Coma's face as if he could see it. Coma reached his hand to examine the object, nodded with a smile and drank.  
"Thanks," said Fiesta and shot a ultra-quick look Nux's direction. That was enough for the boy to start a conversation.  
"You guys remember Larry'n'Barry?" Said Nux. "Gonna have 'em cut out next week. If i make it alive, they gonna poison me. Like bloodbag, but poison instead of blood. They're cooking it already. And if i survive THAT it may be hope. For half lives, you know what I mean? It's an ex.. An exp-pair-..."  
"An experiment" finished the Redhead who just came.  
"Yeah, an experiment. And if i die they'll learn from my body."  
"You won't die, Nux. You're a hard nut to crack," said she and kissed the living skeleton on the lips.  
"How's Slit?" Nux asked her.  
"Ah, well, when he's not passed out he still wants to murder you"

"Slit?" Asked Fiesta. He remembers they have been talking about him as well in the canyon.

"Yeah, my lancer," explained Nux. "He almost burned to death in Razor Cola. Came back eight days ago, with Organic. They had to repair the car to get back here. Took them 4 days to drive back. Organic can't black thumb or drive and he found Slit dying. He used himself as bloodbag to keep Slit awake and so they managed the repairs and the drive. Slit's burned like roasted lizard and he wants to kill me. So he's in Imortan's own infirmary. So he won't kill me and also that he can't catch any bate... Baka..." Stuttered Nux, fighting with the new difficult word.  
"He means Bacteria. Slit's skin is almost gone and Joe's chambers are sterile." Explained Capable.  
"He's a hero," said Nux, "I'm proud of him. He brought the science back. Organic and Maddie are science and Doof here is culture. The Imperator said those are the real things to fight for." Said Nux, blue eyes wide and serious and a bit fanatic.

Fiesta could not resist now. "It was you driving the rig that almost killed him. And the crash killed two drummers. Here goes the culture, by your hand." He said bitterly.

"Did I...," froze Nux, as if he never realized it before. He started babbling confusedly "I'm sorry mate, Doof, ever forgive me? You're the culture and I'm nothing and I hurt you... I didn't mean to... I wasn't thinking about killing, nobody, not Splendid, not Slit, not drummers... I was just Protecting... Protecting Love..."  
"Nux, baby, we know, but why don't you shut up and take some rest," said Capable calmly and touched Nux's lips to silence them. He obeyed and slowly laid down, eyes still wide open with guilt in them. No, Fiesta could not hate him, but he totally gets why some burned war boys want to kill him so passionately. The kid's innocent but so, so annoying.

Capable went closer to Coma to check on him. She truly looked angelic when she almost laid next to him and gently touched his temple to get his attention so she could to speak to his ear.  
"The breathing's fine?" She asked.  
\- Yes, Coma nodded.  
"The chest's not too tight?" - No.  
"Any pain?" - Yes. It still hurts.  
"Hang on, it will hurt only few days more. Then the recovery will be just boring. Do you miss the guitar?"  
\- Yes. A surprised, big nod.  
"Oh... I thought so. I can play a guitar. I'm not as good as you... but if you will I can be your left hand. Right after my shift is over."  
Happy nod. Wide smile with all those crooked teeth.  
"OK, i'm thrilled!" She laughed. 

 

Meanwhile a small supply convoy, one car and three security gunner bikes were descending down the lift to the base of the citadel and heading west. Gecko saw rocks on the horizon from his pole. He heard a lot of stories and legends about the Doof Warrior. From those totally stupid ones, that he eats babies (how somebody even dare to make this up, Gecko thought, since he's seen him being fed with fruits), to those mysterious legends about the ghost of his mother haunting the Citadel (Gecko was kind of frightened by those). Of course he heard various stories about how Coma was taken to the Citadel. And he was damn sure this must be the rocks, and one of the caves inside must be the one Doof grew up in. Gecko's heart jumped when he realized where are they heading. Imperator Furiosa gave Gecko the right to lead this supply mission, so it was up to him where to go. He rocked the pole heavily, making his counterweights, Tally and Hams look up, confused. The polecat gesticulated to go ahead west, to the rocks. If he's lucky enough he can bring Doof some present from his childhood, he thought. Even the idea of being there, touching the walls, walking the floor Doof had walked... Gecko was so excited that he was teary eyed again. 

 

As evening fell on the med bay, Fiesta, Machina and Molly were all sitting around Doof, making him comfortable by massaging his feet (Machina), refreshing his face gently with cold wet rag (Fiesta) and offering him rare, sweet grapes grown atop of the Citadel (Molly). Nux, sitting on the bed next to them, was drawing something on a paper, looking very focused. 

A sound of strings cut the air and they all looked up. Capable stood there, dressed all clean in her non-working clothes, holding a wooden guitar. She put the instrument into Coma's lap. 

He touched the object with curiosity and a wide, satisfied smile. He first took a moment to just touch the wooden body, stroke it, caress it. Then he brushed the strings with his fingers, all, then one by one. He frowned. He reached out for Capable's hand and forced it to the fretboard. She sat on the bed close to him to have the access.

"--." He demanded by morse code.  
"Eh, miss, he wants you to play the g chord..." Translated Fiesta.  
Capable smiled and held the chord, embracing Doof with her other arm. He strummed, then picked a string that didn't seem in tune to him. She understood and started turning the tuning pegs until Doof stopped her.  
Fiesta noticed Nux craning his neck and frowning, all jealous about his girlfriend being this close to the blind musician. 'Serves you right, asshole', thought Fiesta and smiled for himself.

With Fiesta's translation, Coma ordered a series of chords he wanted Capable to play. After few tries, it sounded a bit like a song, like that old beautiful song that mama used to play to him on such similar old, battered wooden instrument.

It wasn't as good as if he could play by himself, but there was something sweet about this, though Coma, whose nose was almost runny again with nostalgic tears. This was like when mama was teaching him those songs many, many years ago. Her fingers on frets, him picking the strings, then they changed and had a lot of fun back then.

Back then. Long before he stood on a wagon with a flamethrower axe. Long before he first wore mama's dead face on his own to to relive the loss, relive those terrible weeks he spent alone in the cave, relive the pain all over so he could feel alive. Right now, being here, sore but accompanied by people he loved and who cared for him, playing guitar together with this nice girl who can't hear a false tone and has clumsy fingers, he realized something.

He does not miss the wagon. He does not even miss his mask anymore. His poor mama found her peace in the desert sand that was almost his grave too. He does not need the reminder of her cruel death anymore. He needs reminders of her being alive, and this moment reminds him of it.

They played on and Coma thought about many things. About mother, about the cave, about himself being a happy child, about himself planning to be a happy adult from now on, about how Fiesta must be a saint for having been so patient with him, about that strange feeling he had when that strange warboy touched him after he fell down... A lot of things to think about.  
While Coma was thinking and picking the strings, the blood shed filled with audience. Everybody was listening curiously, the Organics, war boys, ex-wretched workers, milkers, former wives and even Imperator Furiosa.  
What Coma didn't know, that this weird boy with soft touch, this Gecko, was just returning to the Citadel with car full of metal scrap and one very special gift, which he found in certain cave on the west side.

 

Gecko climbed down his pole and peeked through the sun roof to check on the new passenger. The little animal was sleeping on Tally's lap on the back seat. Its white soft fur with black spots made it look like a tiny war pup. Coma will not see the colours, but he will be delighted to touch it, to feel it purr under his hands, thought Gecko, proudly.


	5. Hendrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised doof some kittens so here we go...  
> Gecko, Hams, Tally and Chass belong to all-doofed-out.tumblr.com

Gecko was afraid to take the cat into the garages, he thought a lot of boys and new ex-wretched citizens might want to eat it. 

Good thing was that a big group of pups was hanging out around the lift and the first moment they saw the animal, they went crazy about cuddling it, fighting one another to get the soft ball of fur to their arms for a moment. 

Then Gecko was afraid that they will tear it to pieces with their love. And of course they were sad when they were told the cat can't be theirs.

"So who's gonna have it if not us?" Asked a sickly looking, skinny war pup.  
"Yeah! Soft things are for kids!" Added cheekily a bigger, stocky one.  
"And for breeders!" Said another.  
"It's definitely for breeders."  
"Hey, Skullface, he looks like you" laughed the stocky one, pointing at the tiniest pup, whose war paint was a bit too heavy and resembling the cat's black spots.

Gecko was standing there helplessly, looking at the pups, trying to do something to get the cat back, but his shy, awkward body language and absolute lack of authority did no trick. It was Hammerhead who stood up, his giant menacing shadow made the children look up in sudden silence. 

"The cat..." He said calmly but firmly, "Belongs to the Doof Warrior. It was imperator's order to bring it. You'll get to play with it if you behave." 

"But... The Doof will... Eat him... Shred him with them scary teeth..." Whispered a one-eyed pup.  
"No, he won't." Said Hams.  
"But ... why did the imperator order to bring him then?" Asked the small one with too much war paint.  
"None of your business. Not a hair on him should be damaged or the Doof shreds YOU." Said Hams and took the kitten gently from the frightened kid.  
The awesome silence and dozens of wide huge eyes hanging on him made Hams think he may have been to mean to the pups. He smiled.  
"The cat will be with me today. You guys, go and find something to eat for him. He looks weak from hunger. Maggots, rats, lizards, i'd say he won't munch salad like we do. You bring him food and water and you'll get to play with him. Gently. For a while." He said.

The kids started cheering, yelling orders and running around, being given such important mission. In the garage, they improvised a cage for the kitten from hood of one of the cars, with a nest from old pants. 

While Gecko was presenting Chass all the finds that could work as guitar parts, they were discussing and measuring the technical aspects, Hams was dealing with a queue of war pups who came back with enormous amounts of cat food.  
They had to wait the line to pet the cat for a while, one by one. Then Hams took them to the fireplace, where he roasted all the extra rats and lizards for them and while they were eating, he explained that the Doof Warrior was not as horrific as they thought.

"He eats what we all do. He never ate any baby or a pup. That's just big war boys wanted to scare you. Actually, he's pretty harmless and he needs quite a lot of help from others. Imagine not seeing anything," said Hams and covered the eyes of a tiny pup sitting on his lap, "not hearing anything," he covered his ears too, "and not being able to speak. How would you walk around killing kids like that? Plus, he's pretty sick at the moment. There's nothing to worry. He may even be glad to have you guys as visitors sometimes. You can play with the cat in the doof chamber." 

"I believe that he's not a monster," whispered the sickly one, picking at a roasted rat with his permanently shaking bony fingers. "Cause I saw him play guitar softly today. With Capable. And Capable is nice, so..."

"Yeah, Capable's shiny and chrome..." Seconded the pups like choir. "If she likes Doof, he can't be that bad..."

"Well, if you are brave war boys, i may have a mission for you," said Hams, patting one of the little bald heads hot with fever. "Tommorow morning, you'll check when the Doof returns from the medical. And when he's in his room, you knock the door, politely, there might be his drummers, so you'll ask to enter first, and you can hand him the cat. Say it's from a cave on the west side. Doof will know. Say Gecko brought it." 

 

Coma was trying to fall asleep in the blood shed, last night in this place for a long time, he hoped. Even a deaf man like him could hear Nux snoring. The cast covering his chest was itchy and too warm and he could not find a good position on the bed. But the events of the last two days were keeping Coma awake as well.

He was undergoing some change, that was started after the crash and completed tonight while playing the guitar.  
He was thinking about future.  
Decided to let the past go.  
Looking forward to things.  
Wanting to experience something new.  
Recover from these wounds finally and get up from the bed as new person.

The heavy burden was lifted. Being it Mother's eternal scream or the quilt he felt over her death, or the heavy flamethrower he used to shoot at unseen enemies in Joe's name, it was all gone. 

From now on, he wants to be better person. He will try not to be so grumpy at Fiesta. He'll accept his care in all its awkwardness.  
He is even ready to be happy for him with Molly.  
He is even...  
...can this be? 

It took him three time to examine this thought, but it was true, that he was even ready to try finding love himself. 

Because why can't he? Because he doesn't have eyes? He always thought having eyes was totally overrated.  
He is good at music and he has always been told he was special. And that must be an attractive quality, he thought. 

If even this snoring big pup next to him has a girlfriend, there must be someone who would love him as a man, too. And if this someone would have the electric touch and soft lips like Gecko...  
'I would be satisfied', he thought, and then he slowly fell asleep, imagining things.

 

Molly woke him up with another portion of incredibly fancy meal, maggot pancakes with strawberries. He loved the sweet taste and fresh smell, but he thought he soon will need to stop this kind of care to keep his slim figure, now that he can't move much. 

Then both of the Organics came, not so angry at each other as usual (Doof was also sure he could smell alcohol from them) and after a short examination they agreed on dismissing him, reminding him not to do stupid things again (like he didn't get his lesson already). When the drummers were carrying him away on a stretcher, Capable went by and she squeezed his hand and said she will gladly come for another music session in his room. He squeezed her back and smiled. 

Fiesta saw the group of war pups waiting at Doof's door from afar.  
"What the hell are they doing here?" He asked Machina.  
"No idea. Thought they were afraid of Boss. The stories about him I heard in the garage were quite wild. I thought it was only for good..." 

As the pups notice them, the excited chatter dissappeared.  
"Hi." Said one bigger pup nervously. 

All the black painted eyes were fixed on the man on the stretcher, studying him with mix of fear and curiosity.  
"We have something for the Doof." Said the pup. Fiesta and Machina looked at each other and to the pups. 

"Have what?" Asked Fiesta.  
"A gift. From the imperator." Informed a sickly looking little boy and lifted a living, tiny black and white puffball.  
"No, mediocre! He's from Gecko!" yelled another pup. 

They had a cat. Real, old world cat. Fiesta was shocked and almost moved. Boss loves touching soft things. A cat is very rare these days, hard to get. A soft, mute little friend for Boss. How nice, how wonderful.  
What an effort must be behind it.

The pups followed them to the room, observing curiosly everything, the musical instrument parts on the shelves, the books, the tools, the many finished or unfinished relief sculptures emerging from the stone walls, the hammock... They were pointing at things and whispering to each other. 

When Doof was sitting on his bed, the skinny pup who held the cat gained his courage to make the few steps forward and hand the present to him. He gently took Doof's hand and put it on the kitten.  
He shivered with fear as Doof smiled at him, revealing the legendary teeth. But they weren't sharp as razors, as the stories told, they were just big and messed up. 

The pup started, politely, slowly and loudly (clever kid knew about Doof's hearing problem)  
"Sir... This is for you. Gecko the Polecat found him in a cave on the west. Said you will know where. He said he's sorry that you're hurt. We thought we... Could maybe play with the kitty if you let us. We can feed it for you, sir." He said. 

The kitten was curiously inspecting Doof's fingers and Doof was touching the animal like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

"Cave" he typed. 

"C...a.. Yes in a cave sir! You speak Morse!" Cheered the skinny boy. 

"You know Morse too?" Asked Fiesta curiously, impressed by the war pup's wit. 

"Yes, mr. Drummer, i have a signal duty. Am no good for fighting they said."  
It made sense, regarding how the boy looked, thin skin stretched over a skeleton. He reminded Fiesta of Nux, but this kid will probably not be lucky to live to Nux's age. 

Coma tapped again. "Cave is home. I had cats. They left." He kissed the soft fur. "Thank you."

The boy's eyes studied Doof's face with curiosity and a bit of sympathy. "Don't thank me. It was Gecko, the polecat. I heard you play yesterday. It was very nice." 

Doof smiled.  
"Your name?" Said the morse code.

"Buckley." Said the corpse of a child. Coma could smell the disease from him. He patted the child's head and tapped on it:  
"Come again anytime. I play for u."

For almost the rest of the day there was a big pile of war pups practically sitting on Doof, playing with the cat, with Fiesta interfering nervously when he thought some of them might squeeze Boss too much. "Mind the leg! Mind the arm! No! Get down! You! Get off him for v8's sake, he's hurt!"

Fiesta was trying to fling off the pups and Molly was laughing. 

There goes the myth about Doof Warrior having war pups for lunch. 

It was a beautiful time for Molly, but then one thought stabbed her heart so sharply that she had to sit down. That her own pup is not here, happy as well, together with everybody, playing with the damn kitten.

If there's been a way to find the grand-grand son of Coma's cat from his childhood, (althrough it could be completely different cat, let's not lie to ourselves), there could be a way to find...

Molly closed her eyes for a little while and took a deep breath, and then she joined the cheerful crowed again.

In the window up there behind the hammock, there was Gecko peeking in, satisfied with the result, happy to see Doof smiling. 

Next time it will be the new quitar. And meanwhile, a lot of morse code lessons for Gecko. He'll hire that clever little war pup to teach him.  
Next time, Gecko will be ready to meet Doof in person and speak with him.  
Next time. He promises. 

"So what's the name, mr. Doof? How should we call him?" Asked one of the pups.  
A morse code answered and Buckley translated the name:

" h...e...n...d...r....i....x... Hendrix!"


	6. Molly's not so great idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Doof gets really drunk and the Wives plot how to get this musical dork a boyfriend.  
> Gecko and his team belong to all-doofed-out.tumblr.com  
> :) If u don´t speak morse code and want to understand the sentence Gecko wanted to tell Doof, ctrl+c it and traslate it here: http://morsecode.scphillips.com/translator.html

Hendrix loved Doof and Doof loved Hendrix. The cat seemed to immediately accept him as his closest fellow and his bed as his territory. He was purring, cuddled up on Doof's shoulder when Doof was sleeping, watching every move in the room with his yellow eyes as if he was protecting him. Or he was rubbing his head on Doof's hand, requesting cuddles and play. And Doof would gently scratch Hendrix on his back, or lift him up playfully and then touch the cat's nose to his own. Black and white cat hair seemed to cover everything and everyone who entered the Doof Chamber. And Doof was feeling better every day, the pain in his broken bones reduced only to the moments when he moved less cautiously or laughed too much.

Gecko, who still could not help himself not to stalk around and peek in through the skylight, felt like he would trade places with the cat. He imagined touching and kissing those long fingers or just sleeping beside Doof. He still felt him in his arms, still could recall every sensation of the moment he's touched him.This longing was stronger day by day and Gecko was both fearing and awaiting the moment he'll get another opportunity to be with Doof. And as the pile of scrap in the garage was more and more resembling a guitar, Gecko knew this opportunity was already knocking on the door. 

But there were the drummers.

Fiesta and Machina indeed stuck with their plan to keep the non-stop watch over their Boss and so, since he was released from the medical, Doof was never left alone. They took turns, while the other one was sleeping or working on Citadel reconstruction, which was mandatory duty for every healthy man.

With Fiesta it was the usual, nothing Doof wouldn't expect. Fluffing up the pillows, feeding Doof with a spoon, rubbing some ointment into his scars gently, asking every five minutes if he wants anything, and the worst - insisting on Doof brushing his teeth, because they "start to look a wreck, Boss, really, and we don't want you to lose'em all, do we".  
Machina on the other hand, he was less of a mommy. He had quite annoying habit of drumming rhythms with his fingers to everything that came by hand. He would sometimes offer Doof a foot or hand massage and he was very good at that, but mostly he was just sitting there, bored, drumming, playing with some wires and electric boxes he brought from the garage. He fixed a broken door lock and installed new lights in the room. But when Doof was thirsty or needed something, he had to ask. Machina never figured it out by himself. Once, in the first few days after the accident, he fell asleep and didn't hear Doof's feeble morse-code tapping on the wood, so a grumpy, achy Doof had to get up and limp his way to the bathroom by himself, being caught by Fiesta halfway on the corridor. Fiesta was of course furious at Machina, and Machina was sorry. He just wasn't the greatest babysitter. He wanted to see Boss back on his feet and strong again, in contrast to Fiesta, who seemed to enjoy having Doof in such helpless position, not refusing his care. It was Machina who encouraged Doof to walk, exercise, train his muscles, he brought him back his old shoes and made him a crutch, while Fiesta seemed satisfied with Doof in the bed, cuddling with the cat and playing guitar with Capable. The war pups, who came to pet the cat regularly, always waited to come to Fiesta's shift. Machina was giving them strict stares.

And then there was Molly and her kamikrazy meals. Doof felt like his old onesie would be too small for him now. Molly's attitude was very much like Fiesta's, she was just less anxious about everything and more chill. Doof didn't have any special opinion on her so far, only the funny feeling that her and Fiesta are acting like his parents, if they were in the old world and he was a small kid instead of a badass wasteland legend. The family is complete, he thought. But he was glad that those two found each other.  
The first time he was with Molly alone and wasn't weakened by pain anymore, he reached his hand to touch her face to see how she looks like. She gasped in surprise, almost tossed over the tray with food and tea, but let him go on, nervously watching the blind man's hand. He traced her small pointed nose, inspected the earrings she was wearing, noticed her hair was thick and smooth, her eyelashes long, then he traced down her chin, her neck, the necklace with doll heads, traced down and found big soft  
... SLAP!  
"Forget THAT, you lil smeg!"  
He drew his hand back, shocked, staring at her with his empty eye sockets, licking the fingers she's smacked. They were a bit swollen later that night, when Capable came for a guitar session.

The next time Molly came, she was a bit sorry for that, so she brought him new shirt as a present and nice collar for Hendrix. "It belonged to Joe's most favourite wife, it's very precious" and Coma could feel little stones and metal flowers under his touch.  
Fiesta and Machina were both away on a brigade to build a new defense system to the Citadel.

The third thing she brought was a bottle.  
"Not sure if Fi would like it, but would you like to taste this? It's a booze, the Vuvalini made it. Herbal, pretty strong."

He smelled the content of the bottle and nodded eagerly.  
Molly didn't understand Morse, so Doof had to be silent or rely on sort of pantomime with her. 

They drank and Molly was telling him various stories, about her daughter, about the wives, or just some random news and gossips from the Citadel, while he could only nod or smile or frown.  
So he was silent while Molly was more and more talkative as they drank.

"So, Nux is getting better, without Larry and Barry. Looks like they really found a cure. I wish they could help all the pups. Can't see them lil blokes just wasting away like that..."  
Coma nodded and hiccuped.  
"Oh, if my pup was here... Me and Fi and her and you... We'd be such a family," said Molly dreamily.  
"Fiesta is the kindest man I ever met. He's got a heart of gold. I hope you don't mind us being...friends."

Coma shook his head, gave her a sweet, genuine smile, and hiccuped again.

"Have you, like ever, had...?" She started.  
Coma tilted his head, not quite following.  
"Someone," she said, shyly. "To ... love"

His pale skin turned a bit pinkish and he pointed between his legs as a question, if she means that, and hiccuped some more.

"Oh, i see. You haven't," laughed Molly. "Boys or girls? What do you like better?"  
Coma shrugged. He was as red as his bathrobe.  
"You know, you're actually quite an attractive man. When I saw you playing on the Doof rig, there really was something about you. But who could tell you'd be this innocent..." Molly giggled, patted his head and handed him the bottle again.

The attractive man was blushing and shyly biting his nails between sipping the booze.

When his blush turned from pink to greenish and he started hiccuping again, Molly noticed she might have overdone it with the drink. He looked up at her with those non existent eyes, and she didn't know how to read his grimace, but it was something between confused and painful. She didn't feel drunk herself, but she realized that she was twice his weight and they drank the same amount.  
Better take this drunk virgin out to get him some fresh air before he pukes in his bed. She woke up Hendrix, who was asleep in her lap, putting him on the floor. 

"Hey. Coma. We go outside, ok? Can you walk?"  
He nodded and then shrugged, pointing at his bandaged leg.  
"It must already be good, mate. Lets put on that shoe and go to the garden for a while," she said, wiggling Coma's good foot into that old, smelly sneaker.  
She helped him stand up and had to catch him from falling back again.  
"Oh boy, that was way too much booze for ya..." She lamented while trying her best at supporting the drunk man to keep him standing. She swung his good arm over her shoulder, embraced him tightly at his waist and dragged him to the garden. He still managed to trip few times and Molly was worried he could hurt himself somehow, so she grabbed him and carried him.

"Miss Molly?" Said a tiny voice from below, "He alright? I was just gonna visit Hendrix!" It was Buckley.  
"He's... Sick. Could you please take his feet and follow?"  
"But organic is that way!" Protested Buckley.  
"No. No organic, darling. To the garden we go."

And so this peculiar trio reached the garden. There was Dag working, she looked up from her plants and started laughing. The picture was comical indeed. A milker and the skinniest of war pups were dragging that crazy guitarist, who was dressed just in bandages and red bathrobe and he was laughing, but not really cooperating. In the bright sun his skin was as white as clay and Dag remembered the brief moment on Fury Road, when she saw this scary face without the mask for the first time. 

"What the smeg is going on?" She exclaimed.  
"Hi Dag," greeted Molly while trying to make Doof stand up again. "I might need your help, Dag. Coma here must walk off half the bottle of Vuvalini booze and I am not as strong as I look."

"Oh, Old fart's favorite is drunk as a skunk. That's better than what it looked like. I think i can help you, yeah."

They squeezed the drunk between themselves and led him through the rows between the pots with plants. After two rounds he was less green in his face and less heavy, walking more or less on his own. They sat on a bench, Doof still in the middle so he won't fall, Buckley was running around, studying the flowers.  
Dag was looking at Coma's face fixedly, and Molly could read mix of interest and disgust in her face. She didn't like that stare, judging him by his looks. Doof, as he could feel it too, put his head on Molly's shoulder, burying his face into her hair to hide it from Dag's view.  
Molly embraced him in a protective gesture.  
"Sorry I got you so drunk, buddy." She said and let him cuddle up to her.  
After a while in silence, Dag spoke to Coma.  
"Capable, she's always talking about you, how great you are. Don't be afraid of me..." She said and brushed Molly's hair away from Coma's face.  
"You're dating that drummer, aren't you?" Dag asked, looking at Molly.  
"Yeah, that drummer, as you said. You?"  
Molly was uncomfortable talking about relationships near Coma, now that she knew he's never been kissed.  
"Me and Cheedo, we're getting married soon." Said Dag and showed Molly a ring tattooed on her finger.  
"Married, wow! Hope we get invited..."  
"Yeah, sure, you better come! Hey, baldie, how about you, you date someone?" Asked Dag, touching Coma's nose with her long finger.  
Molly hissed at Dag quietly: "don't ask him that!"  
Dag bit her lip, understanding that she might have said something inappropriate again. Of course, it was not very sensitive to ask that. He didn't look like somebody in a relationship. Her tongue was just sometimes quicker than her brain.  
Coma just hid deeper in Molly's hair, hopefully too drunk or too deaf to hear the question.  
They sat silently for a while, Dag was playing with her fingers, Molly was watching Buckley play, and then Coma started coughing. Before they could do anything, Molly's whole shirt was splashed down by recycled booze.  
"Oh!"  
"Shit!"

While Molly was washing herself in the Vault's pool, Dag was cleaning the rest of the puke from Coma's chest cast. "When you get rid of this, come directly here to the pool. You smell, mate, you need a proper bath. Now have some rest and I'll clean your clothes, too."  
And Coma fell asleep on the couch, covered by a blanket the Dag gave him, and he could not be woken from the deep sleep of the drunk. He slept on his side, embracing himself, his pale lips slightly moving as if he was talking in his dreams.  
The two girls were standing over him.

"What to do now?" Lamented Molly while drying her hair with a towel. "We need to be back in his room or Fiesta will be MAD at me! He mustn't know about all this!"  
"Well I don't want either to have Cheedo come here and find me with a MAN and a naked woman" said Dag, eyeing the in-and-outs of Molly's nude body. Molly covered herself with the towel, not used to be looked at like this by another girl.

"The pup!" got Molly an idea. "He may go back, bring Coma some decent clothes and leave a note for Fiesta, that all is ok and we are here. I'll tell him we just went to get some fresh air. And that you invited us in."  
"And that he just happened to fall asleep on my couch, looking like shit for no reason?..." Said Dag.  
"If I use that booze on Fiesta too, he may not notice."  
"And I'll end up with TWO drunk musicians in my room, thank you very much!"

They were standing there for another while, until the door opened and Capable rushed in.  
The girls told her what the problem was and so it was now three women standing over sleeping Doof, trying to find a solution.

 

"Gecks, the thing is finished," said Chassis and plugged in the last wire into the amplifier. "Ready to play, check this out." The amp made a terrible screeching feedback noise. Gecko plucked one string, and filled the room with majestic sound, louder than he expected. He looked around startly, as if he got himself freaked out by it.  
"It's perfect..." He whispered.  
It was. A piece of art, all shiny and chrome, with intricate stood out decoration for Doof to touch. Doublenecked, of course, but light enough to carry, connected to a single powerful guzzoline-run amplifier on wheels. Instead of a flamethrower there were few soft feathers on ropes dangling from the tuning pegs, meant to softly carress and kiss the musician's hands.  
"I... I... can't wait." Whispered Gecko, playing with a crumpled piece of paper he's been learning from every night for the past three weeks. His morse code textbook.  
"Then don't wait." Said Chass matter-of-factly.  
Tally peeked from behind the corner, grinning, air-guitaring and shaking his hips.  
Gecko nodded, grabbed the guitar and the amp and with wildly beating heart he quietly dissappeared, this time like a mere human on his two feet, not like a lizard.  
The door of Doof's room were closed. He stood behind them for ten minutes, but could not hear anything. Would that mean Doof is there alone, maybe sleeping? Would this mean he could lay the guitar to his hands and tap the message softly on his shoulder?  
He unfolded the paper and revised the sentence, that was occupying his mind.  
" .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-"  
His hands were shaking so uncontrollably, when he opened the door. But the room was empty. There was an empty bottle on the bed between the messy blankets.  
Gecko didn't know what was going on. He sat on Doof's bed and touched the blankets, he drowned his hands into them to find the still warm spot that Doof's body left there. He was both sad (that Doof is not here), relieved (that he does not have to be brave today) and aroused. Then he heard some noise on the corridor and his heart started beating as furiously as war drums. Panic took over him and Gecko left the beautiful guitar lying on the bed and disappeared as quickly as he could.

 

"Air is clean!" Whispered Buckley, seeing no Fiesta in the room or on the corridor. He whistled and Capable, Dag and Molly (dressed in a wife's white muslin sheet borrowed from Dag) appeared behind a corner, carrying the half sleeping Doof wrapped in blankets. He wasn't heavy, but he was not the lightest either for the girls. They'd woken him up before to get enough aqua cola into him and make sure he won't be sick again, but then he fell asleep again, unwilling to walk back to his room by himself.  
"Whoa, you have to see that!" Exclaimed Buckley excitedly.  
"So shiny, so chrome...."  
They entered the room and saw the wonderful instrument.  
"How did it get here?"  
"Don't know, ma'am!" Said Buckley. "But this is Gecko's. I wrote it for him," he added, holding a crumpled paper with weird dots and letters.  
"Gecko. Who's that? That's the war boy who found Hendrix, isn't he?" Asked Molly, while trying to dress the uncooperative hungover Coma into big red sweater and shorts.  
"Yes. Because... Gecko... He likes the Doof. Everybody knows that. He wants to...ehm... Have the Doof as a wife." Whispered Buckley. "But he's too shy."  
The girls looked at each other and then at the war boy's love interest, who was moaning in his alcoholic sleep.

Capable took the new shiny double necked guitar and strummed few chords, unplugged. The sound was clear and beautiful.  
"It's so romantic..." She said.

"But what about Fiesta," asked Dag. "Will he ever let our Don Juan alone?"  
"Not very likely," said Molly. "Since the accident, he's almost paranoid. Wouldn't let Coma out of this bed, even when his leg is good enough now to walk... But he might let him be with Gecko. If I take care of it."  
"Yes, let's get'em together. They may be the ugliest couple in entire citadel, but if they're happy..." Chirped the Dag.  
"Come on, Dag! You haven't seen that Gecko. Not all war boys are ugly. Nux is handsome for example. And Coma isn't ugly either. I mean, have you seen his hands? Look at them. Such beauty." Said Capable.  
The pale blue eyes took a moment to study the hand lying before her, incredibly long graceful fingers slightly twitching as if he played guitar in his dream. The other hand, the broken one, was resting in its sling, but it was beautiful just the same. How could someone have fingers that long?

"My god, you're right, Cape. Them's the most precious hands i've ever seen," whispered the Dag with eyes full of wonder. "Let's get to know that Gecko and get them two together." 

Fiesta opened the door, surprised by finding three girls in there with Boss instead of just one. 

"Shhhhh.... Don't wake him up," whispered Molly and stood up to kiss Fiesta on the lips.  
"He got really tired after playing this thing," said Capable and waved the guitar before Fiesta's face.  
"Whooooa...." Gasped Fiesta when he saw the instrument.  
"You look tired, sweetheart, how about I make you some dinner and you go to sleep too. I'll look after both of you." Suggested Molly sweetly.  
"Ok, darling!" Agreed Fiesta, all shining. "And thank you for taking such a great care of Boss... You're the shiniest!"


	7. Pretty for a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: - Doof gets a makeover  
> \- Doof gets a date  
> Again thx to all-doofed-out (gecko's and his team's mama)  
> And the tattoo thing at the end is an idea od some lovely anon from tumblr, thank you maaaan:3

The next morning Gecko woke up and found an envelope under his bunk mattress. Inside, there was his old crumpled Morse alphabet guide, and a page torn out from a book. A yellowed page with ancient illustration of a couple kissing in the middle of a green land, and somebody drew there an arrow to each of the characters, one arrow saying "GEKO" and the other one "DOOFling" with the "ling" part in different handwriting, followed by a smiley face.  
Gecko was staring at it and didn't understand, he thought it must have been some stupid joke of his mate Tally, but then he turned the page and saw a letter. 

A decorative, girly handwriting said:

"If you want to be with Doof alone, come tomorrow 3 hours after sunrise. You'll have 2 hours. We take care of the caretaker. This is no trick! don't worry.  
sweet kisses from  
DMC  
Ps: we love Hendrix and guitar + we love Doof + he deserves YOU  
Pps: don't get him drunk."

Was this letter really an invitation? And who was DMC?  
It was no way from Doof himself, even though there was this "D" in "DMC". It looked like something that silly war boys could have done if they wanted to make fun of him, or teenage war pups, but there was something else about it, that felt it was NOT from them. Almost no war boy could spell this way, only the organics perhaps. Gecko himself had a problem reading those letters, when they weren't all capital and had the correct grammar. Also, despite it being the most peculiar thing Gecko ever saw, it sounded somehow genuine. 

Gecko took the letter to the Mcfeasting hall for the breakfast. All his team-mates were staring at it in disbelief, just like he did before.  
"That means.... YOU Have a DATE. With the Doof Warrior. Tommorrow," giggled Tally.  
Gecko nodded, himself having hard time believing that.

"2 hours, that's not much..." Said Chassis neutrally, studying the letter cautiously, as if searching for some evidence it was fake. 

"What do you think they'll do for that long? 2 hours of silent boner is more than enough!" Chuckled Tally. "Both of'em mute and at least one of'em horny..." He added and licked his lips provocatively.

"Do you think Doof is horny? Like ever? He doesn't seem that type..." Said Chass.

Gecko gave both of them a creepy killing stare and cracked his knuckles menacingly.

"So it looks like the guitar was a success." Said Hams and winked at Gecko to calm him down.

The rest of the day was so slow. Gecko was too nervous And he felt the working shift to take forever and Tally's dirty jokes were not making anything better.

In the evening, when the war boys went to sleep, Hams climbed to Gecko's top bunk to wish him good luck. Then, he looked at him with a bit of weird troubled expression in his goodhearted face. "I just don't want you to be disappointed. You are overwhelmed about how you see him... but he really might be... Too different. Than ANYTHING. Rocking and rolling in his own world. Anyways, good luck, buddy." He said and squeezed Gecko's hand.

 

Coma woke up early morning when Fiesta was leaving with Molly and handing the doof-sitting job to Capable and Dag. He gave them a book with morse code manual and many unnecessary instructions.

"Come on, Fi, baby, its just few hours and he's all better already!" Whined Molly theatrically. "and WE deserve some time alone too." 

"Yeah, we are gonna play the new guitar, and we'll make him good breakfast... And I am a certified red thumb war girl now," said Capable, pointing at her new rank badge, "so i can do the check up and you'll save one trip to the blood shed." She winked and gave Fiesta a thumbs up.

That seemed to convince him. In a while the two girls were alone with Coma, who was still pretending to be asleep, trying to sort out all his feelings about this plot. He felt a bit awkward that they had to lure Fiesta out this way for him to have a date, but he was happy to have such a helpful girlfriends. He was definitely looking forward very much to finally meet his lizard-boy stalker.

"Wake up, mate," said Dag, poking Doof on his cheek playfully, "we have 2 hours to make you look all shiny. For starters, you'll wash yourself." She started pulling Doof's sweater over his head to help him undress.  
Then Dag put a weird, oval object of flowery smell into his hand. 

"A soap. Make it wet and rub it on your skin, then wash it away." She said and inserted his hand into the bucket of warm water and gave him a rag. "We won't watch."  
That was a point where she was lying, because she watched amusedly, as Doof was washing himself with a rather dumb smile on his face, putting the soap to his nose every few seconds to smell it.  
Capable was virtuous as always, standing with her back turned at him, looking to the floor. He was quite clumsy with the rag, as if he never did such thing before, which was possibly the case. But he did it cautiously, not to miss a single spot on his body he could reach.  
Then Dag finished his back and wiped also his face, leaving it perfectly clean and rather pink. 

Coma never knew that bath day could be this exciting. Mostly it was just Fiesta hosing him down while apologizing of doing so, and then leading him naked and embarrassed to the paint room.

"look good already. Now check this out. New clothes for ya. Freshly washed, cute, comfy shirt and Nuxy's spare pants." Said Dag and handed him a pile of clothes.  
Coma touched the clean, nice, soft fabric. It felt so... Luxurious.  
He tapped his question.

"What is that?" Said Dag, no idea about Morse Code.  
"Once again, honey, and slowly" said Capable and opened the dictionary from Fiesta .

R... E? Was it An E, Coma? And a D. Red." She said, shrugging.  
"Oh, RED!..." Exclaimed Dag. "Oh, sure it's red, sweetheart. The shirt is brightest red I've ever seen and the pants are more like... burgundy," said Dag.  
Capable chuckled. The shirt was off-white with light floral pattern and the trousers were faded black.

Coma seemed to be hesitating to dress up, gesticulating towards his face, dragging his palm across his cheeks and neck, leaving the girls confused, but at last they understood without having to struggle with the morse code again.  
"A war paint! Do you want us to paint you up?" Guessed Capable.  
Coma smiled, all teeth.  
"I personally find it quite ugly, but it's a war boy thing, yeah" sighed Dag, "i'll go get some of that shit."

"How about you could be able to finally play the guitar by yourself? How is your arm?", said Capable and stroked the fingers of his unfortunate left hand. He gave her the happiest, most eager nod and almost jumped with happiness.  
Capable smiled, as he reminded her of Nux in this excitement. She found scissors in her bag and started freeing his arm from its prison. She'll miss their shared guitar sessions.  
"But you must be super careful, it isn't fully healed yet. Don't play long time and don't be too kamikrazy."  
Coma touched the arm gingerly, freaked out by how thin and feeble it felt. But it was great to be finally able to stretch his elbow and wiggle his wrist, although the limb wasn't behaving the way he wanted. He was actually afraid he would suck at guitar now.  
Then he happily let Capable to do the same job for his leg as well so he could wear both of his shoes. The leg felt skinny too, and he was quite glad he has mangled the same one which was already mangled once, years ago. So at least one of his legs was still muscular and functional and - in his opinion - really pretty. Girls brought him a pair of matching combat boots as his old sneakers were drying out in the sun after proper wash. Coma tried to convince Capable to free him out of his chest cast too, but did not succeed with that, as it really was too soon and the injury has been too serious. 

Dag returned with a bowl of war paint and Coma sat as the girls started working on his face, neck and shoulders. Fresh paint was feeling great, any war boy would tell that. The characteristic smell was pleasant, as well as the way it stretched one's skin. But first of all, it was part of their identity.

The thick coat of white was giving Coma that ghastly beautiful look of marble statues of old times, as well as it was concealing the scars that Fury Road left on his head. Over his eye sockets, Dag gently tied a strip of thin, white, embroidered fabric. Being such a lover of all things beautiful, she still had a hard time not to find his eyeless face rather disturbing. Then he got dressed up and Capable had to cut a good deal of the trousers length to fit the small musician instead of certain ridiculously tall driver, who agreed to give away his pants.  
As they were finished and he stood before them, the girls had to agree he did not look bad.  
He actually still looked like the usual little, buck-teethed scrawny mutant man-child he was, but Capable believed that Gecko would find him breathtakingly beautiful. Just like she finds her Nux.  
Both Capable and Dag kissed Coma on his painted cheek before leaving him alone with a tray of food and drink for two. Coma gave them a wide grin and thumbs up.

 

Gecko came on time, but spent 15 minutes just waiting behind the door, gathering his strength and trying to convince his heart to calm down. Then he knocked. He didn't expect an immediate answer, but the door opened a bit and a long thin arm appeared. The shirt sleeve looked unfamiliar but those graceful movements and the bony fingers did. It was Doof! Gecko's insides were doing more gymnastic, than he'd ever done on his pole. The outstretched hand was searching in the air, and Gecko first avoided it, not daring to touch it, he tried to escape it, just watched it moving around. But when the hand drew back slowly, as if disappointed from having not found anything, he quickly caught it before it disappeared behind the door. Their fingers entwined together in a relaxed v8 gesture, Gecko's hand trembling and wet, Doof's warm and dry and comforting. They stayed like that for a moment. Then Doof opened the door and let Gecko finally see him. Gecko gasped. He loved Doof even dirty and slobby, but the Doof that was standing in front of him now - so shiny, so chrome - was the Doof Gecko kept seeing in his favorite dreams. Looking healthy, confident and... Well...Unusually clean. He stood there smiling at Gecko, careful to keep his teeth hidden.

Gecko stared at him for a while, their hands still touching. Then Doof led him to where the new guitar was standing. He sat down on the pillow on the floor and started playing. The first chords were a disaster as his hand really was weakened, and he grinned apologetically. But Gecko did not complain and just sat there, his stare hanging on Doof so heavily that the musician could feel it physically. He soon got the guitar right, opting for soft melodies, using a lot of complicated fingerpicking, but only few easy chords to conceal his handicap.  
He played and played and didn't feel only Gecko's stare anymore, he felt his trembling body closer to his, almost touching. While still playing, he turned his head to where he thought he'd find Gecko's and then, by feeling his breath, he found his lips. He kissed him softly and quickly as he used to kiss his mother and Joe for good night. It was meant as a 'thank you' for the guitar. But then he felt the weird wave of attraction, the delicate taste of those lips and that sensual smell from the war boy's pores didn't allow him to stop. Coma found himself passionately kissing him while still picking the strings. He felt the piercings with his tongue, two little metal studs in Gecko's lips, and he inspected then his teeth, nice and small and symmetric, so unlike his own. Coma's heart rate was getting faster and he could not play the guitar any longer. 

He felt the boy's love. Just like the electric sparkle of their very first touch back then when he fell down from the hammock. He wanted to feel more of it, everywhere on his body, he wanted to be buried in this loving touch, so different from the kinds of love he's experienced. He put the guitar aside and hugged Gecko and squeezed him and froze in the embrace with lips tasting war paint on the boy's neck. His nose was getting runny from this overload of emotion. He felt so safe and happy and also strangely achy with an odd kind of longing he felt for the first time. He was hugging him as to never ever let him go, never let him run away again. He could listen to this excited heartbeat forever. 

One of Gecko's hands- still trembling heavily- started cuddling the back of Doof's head, the other was playing with his fingers slowly. Coma's calloused fingertips felt as soft as child's in comparison to Gecko's hard crusty skin. Hands of the warrior. Hands which have held onto rough walls while climbing, hands which have held weapons, hands which have killed men, they were gently touching his hand, that has only ever touched strings.

Gecko did not know what to do with Doof, clutched on him and refusing to move. He did not want to ruin this precious moment, but felt like his anxiety will suffocate him. His instinct - run away, quickly, quietly, without a trace - was strong but he tried not to listen to it. He was still pretty shocked about all of this being so quick. He thought they would just clumsily communicate in Morse for two hours and he'd be terribly shy and then, in the evening, laying in his bunk, he'd recall all of it with hand down his pants. And instead Doof kissed him and now he has him in his arms, so precious, so weird, so fascinating. A creature from other world, indeed. He was wondering about Hams' words. He had no idea what Doof was feeling now. He began the kissing, yet he seemed somehow lost now.  
Gecko decided to use the Morse rather than his soft, thin voice muffled down by all the anxiety, so he tapped on Doof's hand: "all ok?"

Doof answered: "you know morse"  
Gecko nodded. Then he realized it was no answer to a blind man. "Learnt it" he whispered.  
Doof wrote: "electric"  
Gecko just tapped a '?'  
"You are" said Doof. "I feel it"  
Gecko whispered shyly, not sure if Doof could hear him: "you are great... So great. And i..."  
"When was the first time?" Asked Doof's finger.  
"?"  
"Spying on me" explained the mute musician.  
Gecko turned red and looked down in embarrassment. His instinct almost won over him as his muscles twitched to move and flee from here. He didn't dare to say or type anything. He just kept on embracing Doof and he felt like a fly caught in spider's net.  
Doof continued the interrogation: 'right after crash?"  
Gecko knew that the true answer was making him look creepy again, but he couldn't lie to Doof somehow. "2 years." He regretted his honesty immediately. How terrible was it of to spy on Doof sleeping, getting dressed, being fed, playing guitar, working on his sculptures? Unforgivable.

Weird silence for a while.

"You should have come earlier." Tapped the long fingers finally. "you seen me plenty. My turn." Said Doof and both of his hands found Gecko's face.

Gecko sat like frozen as Coma's palms were tracing every angle, shape and structure of him. He seemed to be interested by his hair, growing up a tiny bit from his scalp into a scratchy buzzcut.  
He smiled and stroked Gecko's hair with blissed out expression. Then, while touching his jawline, he noticed the tattoos as a little stood out ornament. He traced them over and over, confused.

"What is it?" He asked.  
"A... Tattoo. It's a... May i show ya?" Breathed Gecko shyly.  
Doof nodded eagerly.

"Looks like this..." Whispered Gecko as his shaky index finger touched Doof's jaw and started tracing the shape of his tattoos on Doof's skin. Doof looked both puzzled and fascinated, and, as Gecko kept going down his neck, more and more interested.  
Gecko continued even when Doof unbuttoned his shirt, and went down on his shoulders and arms when he took the shirt off. Coma could not believe there are really such wavy lines everywhere on Gecko's body. But he checked with his fingertips and really, he wasn't lying, the slight stood-out parts on his skin were indeed forming waves, swirls and circles.

Gecko was, unfortunatelly, soon done as Doof's ribcage was all wrapped up and he couldn't continue there. So he traced the arm tattoos over and over. Coma registered that and his idea was to take off his pants at least, but he knew that the boy was probably too shy for that. He was already shaky enough and his heart was racing so hard that Doof could feel it like music coming out from the amplifiers. He decided that next time will be a good time too.  
"Next time rest of it" he tapped on Gecko's lips and he felt the nod and shy smile forming under his touch.

Then he grabbed the guitar again and played, intricate sweet melodies, one song blending into another with improvised intermezzos. Using the sound as his painting brush, he imagined painting waves and swirls and circles in the air, shapes created with music, flying all around and submerging under Gecko's skin just like those mysterious "tattoo" things. He played with all his soul until he found out he was alone in the room.


	8. Sweet lips and sharp teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy time of Doof and Gecko (SOME ACTUAL PORN ACTUALLY! I DID IT YOU GUYS!) + one crazy cinamon roll drummer having a breakdown.  
> Gecko belongs to all-doofed-out.tumblr.com and so does the hickey idea :D
> 
> (I am growing to love Molly and Fiesta more and more. I just want to hug and squeeze my OCs and never let them go.)

He found himself alone with the guitar in the silent room, with his heart still racing from the exciting happenings of last two hours. He felt like he woke up from one of those dreams and none of this has been true. In a while he'll wake up and he will be back to his sickbed with Fiesta leaning over him and everything will suck again and Gecko never happened.

But no, no, these cold walls are real, the guitar in his hands is real, and so is the light ghost of a smell, war-boy smell, that got tangled between the fibers of his shirt. Motor oil, sweat and paint and disease and sex. That's how war-boys smelled and Gecko did as well, despite there was something different about his scent, something softer, a bit feminine, but not really, something that was there and wasn't when he tried to smell again, something that had tendencies to disappear like a ghost, like Gecko himself. Coma took that crumpled shirt from the floor, and muzzling himself with it, both hands clutching the fabric to his face, he tried to inhale as much of the spirit as he could.

Then his hand slipped inside his trousers and found throbbing erection in there. The slime leaking from the tip of his dick stained his fingers and Coma bowed down to smell it too, he even licked the weird-scented wetness from his calloused fingertips, he always did that, for the last twenty- something years since his body started behaving that way.  
He wondered if he could do that with Gecko's dick.  
Maybe someday.  
He assumed people do that to each other when they have sex. Like that drunk imperator back then, when he was holding Coma's small head to his crotch and wanted him to do something completely different than what Coma actually did - bit him bloody.  
Since then, he only ever tasted himself, thinking of war boys mostly. He spent a lot of nights recalling their mysterious smell, rough voices and wild presence which he knew from the raids. Few times he was also thinking of Imperator Furiosa. He's heard her voice shouting commands and once she has touched him and it has not been a human touch, her hand was chrome. Coma felt the cold metal on his skin, like touch of his war-guitar, and since then he sometimes incorporated that fascinating machine-woman to his sexual fantasies. But he never thought of other women this way. He didn't meet many in his life but most of them reminded him of Her. Graceful, pure, kind creatures. Too gentle to think of them that dirty way. It didn't feel right to Coma. Warboys felt right. And Gecko felt the rightest. With a strong grasp and machine-like rhythm Coma continued to please himself, other hand searching on his chest to feel his own excited heartbeat as a bassline to the music he played in his head.

"So, are they finished? Is Gecko gone yet?" Asked Dag, looking at her ancient digital watch as if it was still working and not showing 88:88 ever since she's had it. Capable discreetly opened the door for barely an inch, but then her eyes got wide and her cheeks rosy. "No. Not yet!" She whispered. "But I'd say it was successful..." She whispered and led Dag quickly away from the door, behind which was Coma masturbating.  
They gave him a while more to be alone, then they stepped into the room. He didn't notice them. Capable had to touch his hand gently to get his attention, and she felt weird, knowing where that said hand has been recently. She noticed his heart beating wildly when helping him back into his casual sweater. She noticed the war-paint kissed away around his mouth, and those black smudged stains on his nose from black war-boy markings. To get rid of this evidence she wiped his face back clean, showing him later where she put the bucket of clay in case he'd want to paint himself up again.

 

Gecko climbed the citadel wall, found his favorite rock to sit on, and watching the sky and the wretched down bellow, looking like tiny ants from his high spot, he spent time reenacting every detail of his date with Doof.  
He was glad he actually managed to speak with him, that his shyness haven't taken completely over him. He was still shivering when he recalled the kisses and touches. Real Doof touched Gecko with those nimble fingers. And then he played for him beautifully. It was hard to believe it really happened. But at the end Gecko did run away, as the said time was up and he didn't gather the courage to interrupt Doof' s music to let him know he's leaving.  
Gecko was sitting on a cliff and staring to the sun. The heat was breating on his skin and the light fresh wind was gently carressing his body, like Doof did. He'd love to take the guitarist up here one day, or to other of his favourite places. And if Doof is scared of heights, he'd hold him close. 

Ten days passed before Gecko got another letter signed DMC. Coma, of course, knew it and couldn't wait. He's spent the ten days barely registering what was going on around him as he was flying on a weird happy cloud. Things were finally settling in the old ways they were before the Fury Road. Well, Almost. There were just two drummers instead of four. His guitar wasn't a flaming axe, he didn't have his mask anymore and his limp was more noticeable than before. But basically, the life went to the usual trails. Doof walked the gardens with Fiesta when it was sunny outside, greeting all the war-boys who passed by, or he hung out in his room jamming with both drummers. When a scary toxic storm came and the whole Citadel was shaking and the wind was wheezing through the corridors, he'd let Fiesta tuck him into bed with Hendrix and read wordburgers to him. But whatever he did, his mind was somewhat absent, fixed on Gecko and his war-boy smell and tattooed skin. Absent-minded smile and nodding was the most communication he did. Fiesta noticed it.  
"Did you even listen?" He asked when he closed the book he was reading loudly.  
Coma shrugged.  
"Awww Boss! I was trying and you didn't even listen!"  
Apologetic smile. Fiesta was a bit angry. Then he thought that maybe Boss's hearing got worse again and he started testing it, to Doof's annoyance. 

Then the another day came and Doof learnt about Gecko's talents other than kissing. Coma was in awe when the polecat bended into the most improbable positions and than let him touch his body to feel it. Where Coma thought he'd find Gecko's legs, were his arms, where was supposed to be his bottom, was his head, where was supposed to be his back, was his front and Coma was fascinated. Being someone who couln't even reach the floor with his hand when he bended over, Coma found this bendiness hard to believe. He finally understood how the boy could always enter the room by the skylight. No laws of physics and orga-mechanics seemed to apply on the polecat. And when the musician intended to touch where he thought he'd find the lean muscles of his shoulder and instead he felt the hard bump getting errect under his soft touch, he lost all of his shame. He grabbed it, found the buttons of the pants, and burried his hand and later his face into Gecko's crotch. The taste was different from what he knew and he swallowed all of it.  
Gecko was moaning and panting and completely under Doof's control. Coma's tongue went up to Gecko's torso, kissing him intensely on his belly, ribs and nipples, not being very careful about his big sharp teeth. "Aah", moaned the warboy "you gave me a hickey!"  
Doof stopped what he was doing and looked up blindly. He had no idea what a 'hickey' was.  
"You want one too?" Asked Gecko shyly.  
Doof nodded eagerly. Before he could expect it, there was the warboy's mouth sucked tightly on his neck, then on his jaw and then Gecko bit his earlobe lightly. It hurted a bit, but it was exciting as well. Then they both layed in the hammock idly, tracing each other's faces with their fingers. The light was coming down and the room was dim, so Gecko couldn't see that the marks that his mouth left on Doof's skin were getting nasty purple red and very visible. He didn't assume the guitarist's pale skin to be this sensitive. They fell asleep like that, limbs tangled together. They had whole night to be together as Fiesta was sleeping outside with Molly today and they won't come until morning. Before the dawn Gecko woke up, for a while he silently watched Coma's sleeping face lit by a full-moon light, and then woke him up gently too, to help him down the hammock and lay him in his bed instead. This time he didn't leave without saying a word, he kissed him goodbye, lips on lips. Doof reached his hand sleepily after that, but found nothing but air. He smiled to himself, again in awe by his lover's mysterious ways.

Molly and Fiesta were watching stars from their blanket tent in the upper gardens. They have just had sex and Molly has been amazing, loud and a bit kinky, and Fiesta was happy, then his thoughts turned to Boss's recently weird behaviour.  
"What's wrong, Fi?" Asked Molly when she saw the moonlight drawing a worry-wrinkle on his forehead.  
"Uh, something's up with Coma I guess" sighed the drummer. "He's been acting weird lately. He doesn't speak with me as he used to, he barely eats, doesn't pay attention to anything, he's so... Distant. I thought maybe his ears are getting worse..."  
"Maybe that's just some phase. Feeling blue or something..." Said Molly.  
"He's not sad. I know him sad, it's different. He's just distant, far away somehow. He refuses comforting. When he's sad, or hurt, when something's wrong, he always gets cuddly. This is just weird..."

What have we done, thought Molly, looking to Fiesta's innocent eyes reflecting the night sky. The plan was to make one unfortunate blind man happy, the result was other man worried. Molly suddenly felt sorry for cheating Fiesta like this. She thought of telling him the truth, but didn't want to ruin the moment. 

In the morning, they both went to Coma's room. They found him still sleeping, sun from the window shining on his face, illuminating the angry violet bruises on his neck and chin. Of course it was the first thing they both noticed upon looking at him. Of course Molly immediatelly knew those were hickeys. Of course Fiesta didn't.

"Ho boy!" Exclaimed Fiesta in loud whisper and hurried to the musician's bed. "Look at the rash, Molly. I was right. He's been sick the whole time!"  
Coma shifted on his pillow, being disturbed by the sudden fuzz. He felt Fiesta's hand on his forehead. "He's kinda hot too," said the drummer. Another hand, soft and chubby. "He's perfectly normal, Fi." Said Molly.  
"I'm gonna get the Organic!" Said Fiesta.  
"Fi. No... Come with me," said Molly's voice. Coma felt like the girl was dragging his drummer away. "Don't ask, just come out, where..." Coma didn't understand more.

"...where he can't hear us." Was the rest of the sentence. They were out in the corridor and Molly was leading Fiesta further.

"But he's sick and I need to..." Protested Doof's caretaker.  
"No, Fi. He ain't sick. He's in ...love." She said.

Fiesta looked surprised. "Love?" He repeated, "With whom?"

" a warboy. The one who made the guitar and brought the cat in" said Molly neutrally.

"A war... No. Warboy..." Fiesta repeated the word as if trying to process it. He was playing with his hands nervously. "Warboy. Warboy..."  
"But that... Warboy. Tell me he's just a fanboy. Tell me he doesnt love him back!" He exclaimed finally.

"I'm afraid he does." Said Molly.

"But that's an utter tragedy!" Fiesta's voice was rough with combination of anger and swallowed tears.

(Tragedy? How can love be a tragedy, asked Molly herself. Love could be a tragedy to those who are jealous. Molly sighed and looked at the beautiful face in front of her, framed by yellow dreadlocks. Fiesta, whom she loved and admired for his compassion with the weak ones, but now she is starting to see it's been all different. All wrong. She should have known that Fiesta's heart is not beating for her. She's probably just a friend, with... Well, benefits. Amusing and big-breasted friend. But it is the little crippled blind man, who has Fiesta's heart. And she should have lived in a sweet lie had it not be for her own mistake, putting Doof together with Gecko... She must tell Fiesta what she thinks about jealousy. And she will try not to sound angry and hurt.)

"He's not yours to own..." Said Molly carefully. "We're not...things, remember?"

"It's not about me," whispered Fiesta in broken voice.  
Molly looked up at him, confused. "It isn't?"  
(It isn't?)

"No. Nothing's about me. Don't you get it? I just wanted to protect him..." Said Fiesta (nothing but pure innocence in his eyes, Molly would swear. Maybe she was wrong after all.)

"Protect him from what?"

"From anything that could hurt him again." Said Fiesta, looking down on the floor.


	9. Fiesta's story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiesta and Molly have a serious talk on why shouldn't Doof date Gecko.  
> We get to know something from Doof's not very happy past.  
> Cinnamon roll (Fiesta) alert!!!

Fiesta and Molly were sitting on a stone step in a abandoned part of corridor past the Doof Chamber. Some of Joe's old furniture was piled in the hallway, waiting to be repurposed. Fiesta was nervously tapping his feet and curling one of his dreadlocks around his index finger, again and again.  
Molly sighed. She likes Fiesta so much, gods, she loves him, but this gets tiring. His obsessing over Doof's every step. And now his shock from finding out Doof is an adult, with full right to have somebody to love. In his case, a warboy from Gas Town, who appears not to be very careful kisser. More of a biter. If he didn't make all those marks on Coma's neck, Fiesta wouldn't know anything. Molly and her girlfriends should have written this to their letters - No hickeys! Don't damage the Doof! - but how should they know?

"Gecko won' hurt Doof, Fiesta." Said Molly quietly.

" Well, he came to have some fun, " scoffed the drummer, "and didn't think very far. He's a warboy. Yo know what's the problem with warboys?"   
Molly shook her head.  
"First, They're brutes!," explained Fiesta. "Warboys are not kind and they're not trustful! They're mostly touched in their heads. And this one also clearly has some weird... fetish... if he wants to... Ah, well, i don't wanna imagine. And the other problem is, the MAIN PROBLEM IS, THAT, for god's sake, Molly, that warboys die! Like flies! He can't...! No matter if he just dumps him or drops dead, it's going to destroy Coma!" Pleaded Fiesta, with voice full of helpless anger. "Coma's heart just not for playing around. He's not tough! He's so... Fragile."

Ah, man, thought the Milker, this will take long. She admired Fiesta's dedication and love and care he was giving to the little guitarist, and she hated to argument against it. But she had to.

"You know him a long time, I know, and I understand things were rough for him, but he deserves the same that we all do. Some fun. Some love. Adult's life... He ain't a pup, Fi."

"If you'd seen him back then... he was just sitting here all alone, rotting in filth, he didn't trust anyone.. If I didn't give him some love, he'd surely be dead by now. But I'm not gonna abandon him, never. How can you say that that about that warboy?.." Said the drummer boy sadly. He wrapped his face into his palms and stayed like that for a long moment, breathing heavily. His long, brown fingers disappeared under the dreadlock wig. He scratched his head and then pulled the whole lion-mane thing down, exposing his scalp. Molly saw him bald only in the night, during sex, and even then he was insecure about it. She knew the emotions must really be shaking him when he just took his wig off. Fiesta was cradling the messy bundle of fake hair like a pet animal and started explaining.

"When I first met Boss... Coma... Doof... It's been hmm... It's been years now. I was 13. He was not yet 20. And he was... He was a human tragedy."

He recalled the moment when he and his three brothers stood there behind the heavy door to the Doof Chamber, excited to meet the "bard", as their new leader, the Immortan, promised. He's said 'the Doof Warrior will be glad to meet new musicians. He's been here with us for almost a decade now. Creative mind like his gets bored easily, he needs new inspiration.' And then the soldier on Joe's side unlocked the door. The room stank. A lonely figure was sitting in the corner, scratching something into the wall. He looked up- wait, he didn't look up, his head and eyes were covered with dirty rags, he couldn't possibly see through that- and with sudden insane smile he clumsily ran to the door, searching his hands in front of him. Little Fiesta noticed the boy was about his height- how old was he, again? - and very thin. His bony hands found Joe and he embraced the warlord's thigh. He refused to let go. First, Joe patted his head, but then his eyes started looking annoyed. "Let go!" 

After a while the imperator had to tear those nimble dirty fingers off Joe, cuffing the boy's little wrists with his meaty hands and shaking him off to the floor. Joe quickly walked away and the boy crawled back to his corner, desperately sobbing. The four little drummers looked at each other with wide eyes. This was the last thing they've expected. 

"Man up, boyo, you've got visitors!" Barked the imperator, but the creature didn't respond. The soldier turned to the drummer boys. "Just...beat those drums...there won't be much talk with'im.."

With eyes full of questions, they started playing the bongos. The sad human being - called the Doof Warrior - kept on hugging the cold wall, but now he was also listening. The imperator took a wooden guitar that was laying around and brought it to the boy. "Common, play something, Doof. Don't misbehave."  
Nothing.   
With rather aggressive gesture, he turned the young man around and forced the instrument into his hands. And yes, he played, perfect improvised guitar solo to match the rhythm of the drums. But he played not even one minute and then he stopped and put the guitar aside and proceeded to scratch the wall.   
"Well, pups, looks like today's not a good day. Go out. Shoo."   
And the four boys obediently disappeared behind the door. They heard the imperator swearing. 'Ungrateful smeghead' 'lately horrible' 'calling to be tossed out amongst the wretched when your no longer useful around here' and 'even yer ma would be ashamed' 'i hope i'm cleaning yer damn shit for last time' was what they heard. Then the imperator walked out, carrying a bedpan, locking the door behind himself again. Fiesta stepped out of his hideout and listened with his ear stuck on the door. There was a sad, quiet, beautiful music. 

-

"...people told me he was raised in a mine. Then his mother died the most terrible way. When i saw him first, he didn't have her skin on. But when I came the next day, on my own, the death's head scared me. I guess, the piece of skin was his only company." Fiesta's voice broke and a tear escaped from one of the ponds that were growing in his eyes. "He was locked here, Molly. Dirty, neglected, alone, just with piece of dead skin. He was the loneliest person in the world."

"I thought Joe raised him?" Said Molly.

"Joe found him, of course. Saved him if you want. A mutant who can play guitar was interesting to him. Part of the collection. Sure, he took some care of him, he may have even really liked him, but Coma grew and was no longer a child, and became a burden. The first year or two, Joe would read to him, take him to the shops, where cars were being made, Joe spent time with Coma, but then he just... Lost his interest. It was when... Those breeding issues started, before you came here. He lost his interest when he found out Rictus won't be his perfect heir. And Coma, he would just wander the citadel... Aimlessly... and fall into holes and keep hurting himself as he couldn't see. And when he fell somewhere, he couldn't ask for help. He could just wait there until someone noticed him. And so Joe had him locked. He loved Joe and Joe locked him here in the cold dark when he didn't need him! It took me so much time, so much effort to make him... A person again."

-

Young Fiesta was so shaken by the musician's fate that he couldn't sleep at night. He'd take his drum and leave the bunk quietly, to sit behind Doof's door to play for him. The second night the boy joined him on guitar, the fourth night Fiesta found him waiting behind the door, he heard his breath. Fiesta spoke to him. He told him everything about his brothers, about how they came here, he told him how confusing the Citadel seems to him. Although Coma never spoke, he sometimes could hear a voiceless chuckle. When they found him "disturbing the night peace in the hall", they attempted to punish Fiesta. They tossed him inside, to the room with Doof, and locked them together. What a punishment. Doof was very gentle with the little drummer. He showed him all his treasures. It was deep dark, night black as coal, so Fiesta had to touch the objects. A feather, a rusty chain, roll of bandages, three guitar picks, two-headed dead cockroach and his mother's face. Coma wanted to let him sleep on his mattress, as he himself would lay on the floor, but as he woke up from his usual nightmare panting and sweating, Fiesta offered him comforting hug and they ended up sleeping together on the bed. The war boy in hallway monitor duty was surprised the next day not to see Fiesta scared to death for having to stay with the "monster". 

"So they made me his personal pup. Me and bros, we'd come everyday to jam with him, and I'd come extra to bring him food and such. Later, they gave me the key. He was locked for his own safety and that was my responsibility from now on. I took him everywhere, showed him everything. Joe was pretty happy with us. Probably he was feeling guilty for neglecting him and he was glad to have us. We got our very own little room and good jobs. None of us had to fight. Then after a successful raid, there was this idea...."

-

A successful raid means a fruitful one. New vehicles, weapons, fresh bloodbags, women to become breeders or milkers. That one raid brought also truck full of broken musical instruments. Trumpets, guitar necks, some amplifiers, some drums. Joe was over the moon: "I want a music truck, full electrified, a glorious manifest of power and wealth," he wheezed with triumphant sparkle in his eyes. His highest engineer nodded and took a note. 

The main star of the future Doof Wagon, the again celebrated Doof Warrior (no one wanted to toss him down to the wretched since he got Fiesta and some of his long denied happiness), took the two broken guitar necks under his wing and played around with them in his room. The next day, he was playing a new primitive guitar he built himself. With those filthy old bandages from his collection he tied the guitar necks to his old bedpan, the despised reminder of his days spent behind locked door. Then he installed the strings, and hung this whole thing on the rusty chain he owned, around his neck. It was, surprisingly, working. The war axe got a lot of of makeovers later from skilled engineers, but the bedpan stayed there.

-

"When we had our first Doof Wagon battle, I was 16," recalled Fiesta. "After the first day near those speakers, he couldn't hear for like three days. He was pretty frustrated... I think I already told you I taught him the tapping language, didn't I?"   
Molly nodded.  
"But did I tell you what was the first thing he said?"  
"No..."  
"He told me his name..." Said Fiesta. His eyes were red and glossy from all the emotions.

-

He had to still think hard about the Morse code. He was motivated, but written form of words was very abstract concept to him. How come he hears a K, but has to type a C? How comes some letters come doubled in a word? Fiesta made him a textbook to study from - well, it was Machina who made the device. It was a thin metal plate with morse code alphabet and few words bellow so he could see how the letters are used in words. There was written: ' Doof Warrior Plays Guitar and I can listen to it forever. Fiesta Machina Berserker Eddie V8 Immortan Joe'  
This was providing him enough examples to get the basics of the grammar. But he didn't even learn the normal alphabet when he was a child, since he has always been mute and blind. He felt his head heavy and achy from the unusual way of thinking. He was more than motivated. He wanted people to know his real name. He wanted to hear it again. Last voice, that called him Coma, was his mother's voice almost 15 years ago.   
" M-e ....n-e-i-m...I-s....Coma " he finally tapped into Fiesta's palm one day.

-

"Oh, Fi. That... That's wonderful," whispered Molly. "Thank you for sharing all this."  
"Ah, well, And do you... See my point? Would you ever let somebody hurt his feelings after what I told you right now? Man, who said his first words ten years ago? Who had to live in all this shame and misery and ... Insecurity, being treated like animal, when really, secretly, he's always been a genius? They took him in and then wanted to throw him outta here... Would you let somebody hurt his feelings, Molly?" Said Fiesta.

Molly swallowed empty air. It was very hard for her to tell what she felt.

"Yes. I'd let."

"What!?!"

"Well, you really helped him. Healed his soul. It's been quite a way, quite a progress. Let him continue. Let him decide for himself. You gave him new life, so please let him -"

"-live it...." Finished Fiesta her sentence with sudden insight. 

"Exactly," she whispered, "If he gets hurt you'll be there for him. As always. Let him try, Fi." 

"I guess you're right actually." He said, unsure tone with a drop of guilt in it.   
"And you were guite right.. All along. It... It Was about me," managed Fiesta. "It hurts me too when something hurts Coma. Couldn't even watch him bleeding, V8... I should perhaps try to stop being such a pussy. And be brave... Like him..."

"Fiesta, You Goody Two-Shoes... You goddamn righteous motherfucker. I love you" smiled Molly.


	10. Stormy night #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiesta moved in to Molly's and first night there sure is a strange one. To be continued- Nux, Slit and other visitors to appear...
> 
> The lovely polecat Gecko (c) all-doofed-out.tumblr.com

"So, i hope it is big enough for two..." Said Molly, trying to make more space for Fiesta on her matress.  
"Imperator size, my dear. Never had so much space!" Chirped Fiesta happily, lounging comfortably besides her, his arms behind his head. It was true - He slept mostly in a hammock in a drum depositary, or occasionally, with Doof on his bed which was more narrow than this one. He will see if Molly is as space-demanding sleeper as Doof. 

"O.K, good night!" Said Molly, "oh, almost forgot to tell you. Sometimes a pup comes to me at night. The skinny one who brought the cat in."  
"Yeah, sure," shrugged Fiesta. "Name's Buckley, aint it?"  
"Yes, Buckley. But he's awful sick. I just let him sleep here with me if he feels bad."  
"Then maybe you should get dressed in case he'll come, no?" Smiled Fiesta and gently smacked Molly's bare buttocks.  
"Y-yeah," laughed Molly and reached for the white dress bundled on the floor. "But you'll lose that view!"  
"You're right, and I'll be terribly sad. But moral protection of pups is more important. They're our future," yawned sleepy Fiesta.  
"Good night, loverboy. Enjoy your first night in our little kingdom...I love it already"

Fiesta... He loved it too.

Molly's - and now also his - "little kingdom" was a narrow space, just big enough for a bed, made from former milking mothers vault. As most of the women found themselves a partner lately or just wanted their privacy, the hall they used to sleep in has been divided into tiny separate rooms with makeshift dividers from plastic, wood or metal desks, bars and a lot of heavy fabrics, foil and curtains. These barricades were by no means soundproof. Fiesta was laying in flowered blankets on a soft mattress barely broad enough for two, which was quite comfortable. He heard tiny quiet sounds of women's voices giggling and whispering behind the junk barricade. He was staring into the ceiling, that Molly has painted with flowers, butterflies, skulls and little cars. 

This place indeed was lovely. 

He lives now with his girlfriend. 

But. 

Doof... He's alone in there, or, more likely with Gecko, enjoying his independence, as he asked to. 

But a long corridor and a staircase, an another corridor were between Fiesta and Doof.. 

And Fiesta knew he might be having a problem himself, paranoia about Doof's safety that was well watered to grow after the recent events, since the devastating War Rig accident, a tickling anxiety that kept him awake. Learnt from those recent events, his brain was producing many different scenarios of the Doof Warrior in distress. He knew nothing bad would happen, and that Doof is happy to be finaly on his own, and yet... There were these big "what if" hanging in the air, hovering above Fiesta, planting new reasons to be worried about leaving Doof alone. 

What if he's having nightmares and wakes up all alone, with no one to hug him and calm down his wildly pounding heart? What if there's something wrong with him, like that last time when he could not breathe? 

The organics declared Doof completely healed just few days ago, but he was still so fragile. Unexpected, always present pain in his 5 badly broken and badly healed ribs, appeared after his last piece of bandage have been removed, as a new addition to his usual problems, and Fiesta felt sorry for his little Boss. 

Even yesterday Fiesta woke up two times in the night when he heard Doof tossing and turning and quietly weeping in his bed from pain and discomfort, to get him a relieving massage, and then he held his hand until Doof fell asleep again. And yet was Doof insisting on spending nights alone from now on.

Gecko was probably there, yes. Gecko might bring Doof water or lead him to the bathroom or comfort him, but Fiesta still doubted that a war boy could do any of this right.

But Doof wanted this and so did Molly, so Fiesta is just going to close his eyes and stop staring at the ceiling where one of the painted plants looked like Doof' s lost, pointed mask. 

Molly was laying next to him, already sleeping, the moonlight was hitting her curves in a way that was leaving Fiesta breathless, and yet... and yet it was all weird.

Then he heard a thunder. And the familiar wheeze of sand outside. He felt the ground slightly vibrating, which was much lighter in this room then upstairs, where he used to live with Doof.

Molly turned to her side, whispering something incomprehensible. Also unused to have somebody else in her bed, she kicked Fiesta with her knee. "Sandstorms suck" she babbled from her sleep. 

The night duty warboys and maintenance workers were up as Fiesta heard distant noises and metallic clicking from the corridors as they ran with their tools and ladders to secure open windows and balconies of the Citadel. He heard few pups crying from distance, from the junior barracks where they slept in their cuddle-piles. He thought briefly of Buckley, Molly's favorite pup, the sickly one who would come to feed Doof's cat. Wondered if he would come tonight. 

Then Molly babbled - "you goddamn mutants!" - And kicked Fiesta again, right to his balls. Fiesta rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth in pain. Doof sometimes did the exact same thing to him in his sleep. He knew for sure that Molly, the good girl she was, really kicked him accidentally, he's always been suspicious about Boss doing it on purpose. 

Boss is a spoiled, self-centered, mischievous creature, but he's also a brilliant mind forced to live in a body that puts nothing but obstacles his way. He has always been brilliant and pure, until Fiesta spoiled him. And Fiesta loves him - in a weird, special way (because everything about Doof is weird and special) but he DOES.

 

*

 

Upstairs in the Doof chamber, Coma and Gecko barely registered the sandstorm. They were tangled together, kissing hungrily, the tiny musician topping the polecat, biting his neck, licking his skin, and Gecko was escaping playfully using all his bendiness and lizard ways, but always letting Doof catch him and pin him down and enjoy his dominance. But Doof got winded as laughter and long fucking and unexpected movements were no good for his damaged ribcage. So they just laid besides each other and cuddled, without a word, until they fell asleep. Until Coma fell asleep, to be precise. His lovestruck warboy just kept staring at him.

He was admiring the smaller man's calm, sleeping form in the dancing dim light of the petrol lamp. Coma was sleeping on his side, curled on himself, embracing his knees with one arm, the other reached to Gecko, long bony fingers touching his shoulder. His lips were slightly open and Gecko could feel his even breath. He was naked, his skin pale and satin smooth in the dim light, his body thin and soft at once, so unlike the rough warboys. His features were also fascinating to Gecko - the skin under the soft light hair of his eyebrows, in the empty walleys of his eye sockets, was slightly more pink than the rest of his face. Without warpaint as he was now, Gecko could see the small blue veins showing through the delicate skin - which was, to Gecko's surprise, slightly sprinkled with pale freckles. They were even on his lips. The polecat was thinking, what colour would Doof's eyes be if he had any - with his complexion he could have every colour, from aqua-cola blue to dark brown. His nose was small, little bit curled up, and incredibly cute. 

Gecko kept watching him for some time while listening to the storm outside.

He loved to go outside after storms, when the sky got clean again and the air was no longer burning one's lungs. He loved the moments when raging nature finally calms down and there's strange electricity in the air. In the night it was the most magical. Gecko would climb to one of his hideouts and just watch the heavy clouds of dust dissolving, exposing the bright moon and starry sky. He'd just sit perched on a small flat stone ridiculously high on the citadel wall, fearlessly vawing his feet in the air, until the first rays of pink and purple sunrise colored the world. He always wished he had one of those devices from the old time, that used to capture the images of reality and paint them on a timeless paper. He would take pictures of the sky and clouds and he would take pictures of Coma.

"Koda-chrome," he whispered for himself. That's how they were called, isn't it? He slowly, skillfully squeezed himself out from Coma without waking him up and hurried up so he could catch his very favorite moment of the fading storm. 

*

"Miss Molly?" Whispered a tiny voice in the dark. Fiesta, who was finally half asleep, opened his eyes to see a small ghostly figure of a war pup.  
"Oh, sir, didn't expect you here, sorry!" Whispered the kid.  
"Hey, buddy. Is something wrong?" Whispered Fiesta back.  
The kid was playing with his fingers nervously and looking to his feet as if he were caught doing something wrong. "I just... It's just a night fe... Nevermind, good night!" He said and hurried back from where he came.  
"Buckley! Com'ere. S'enough space for ya over here. You don't feel well, huh?" The boy looked at him with those huge, guilty eyes. "No, not really. Am just a bit sick, s'all" he piped.  
Molly finally woke up and it didn't take a long time persuading the child to lie by her side even when there was the drummer with her already. Fiesta gave the little one his skirt as blanket. Buckley was indeed burning up and Fiesta got him some water. This pup was not "a bit sick", Fiesta thought again. This kid was closer to the end of his half-life than anybody would like to admit.  
Molly embraced the pup, whispering to him, and they all went back to sleep.

 

*

 

Coma was having a dream about Joe for some reason, one of those peculiar dreams in which he could speak, and he was arguing with the immortan about guitar strings... When he woke up and searched for Gecko, but he was gone. He couldn't hear the sandstorm either, but then, he knew he could hear shit anyway. He knocked his question into the bed frame, and nothing. First night without Fiesta after such a time and he didn't expect waking up in the middle of the night alone - or was it morning already? Noon? The next evening? He searched with his hand on a bedside table and found a glass with fresh water. Gecko cares about me almost like Fiesta, thought Doof. He drank, laid back, but couldn't fall asleep again, couldn't find a good position as his body started aching again. Also, he felt alone and somehow unsafe. First he tried to ignore it, but his brain started panicking. Soon, almost against his will, he was up on his feet, dressing himself up to the first piece of clothing his hands could find and limping his way to Fiesta's new room, or at least where he thought it was.

*

 

Ace was enjoying his lover for the night. Bubless, the oldest milking mother and occasional imperator's whore was sitting on him, riding him rhytmically and calling him a "gargantuous chrome stallion". Ace was the happiest old guy in the world, he thought. He lived through so many sandstorms and toxic hurricanes, but tonight he went back to his youth, to his high school years before the world fell, when he and his first girlfriend were in that backyard treehouse, and...  
And... He just hoped no war pups would look for him tonight for any damn reason... Cause tonight, Ace ain't no grandpa, tonight he's a sexual Jackhammer in a high performance mode. 

But then - Boom! Something bumped to the door. "What the hell's going on there?" He yelled, annoyed. Awkward knocking on the door. Goddamn pups!  
Bubbles got off him reluctantly and put her dress back on. 

"Go away, let an old man sleep! Ya never make it to high ranks if a fucking storm made ya freak out!" grunted Ace towards the door. 

It has gone quiet for a while, the he heard some weird, rather heavy steps and then another knocking. He shuffled to the door at last, put on his sleepiest face, and angrily pushed the door open - another Boom! Ace saw no pups. A pale goblin man in a long white nightgown down on the floor, as Ace has just knock him out with the door, frustrated and confused expression in his eyeless face... It was Coma... "Aww, fuck," grunted Ace for himself. He didn't mean to harm this poor little gargoyle, whatever the reason why he was here.  
Ace turned the grandpa mode on. "Coma? You hear me?" He said, patting the Doof Warrior's shoulder while helping him stand up. "Why here, mate?" Doof just gave him that unsettling teethy smile as if it was explaining enough.

 

*

Fiesta just opened his eyes to see the curtain moving and an old, warpainted leathery face of the War Rig lieutenant appeared. "Ssss" hissed Ace to wake them up. "You got a visitor", and he pushed Doof forward. "Boss!" Exclaimed Fiesta and hurried to the guitarist, who stood there on his unstable feet, smiling nervously. Fiesta hugged him instinctively.  
"What are you doing here?" He whispered to his ear - shrug.  
"Need something? Water? Bathroom?" - no  
"Told you not to walk around barefoot and without your brace" - shrug again.  
"Want me to take you back to your room?" - Doof looked like he was thinking hard for a while.  
"Or do you wanna stay here with us?" - shy nod.

Fiesta led him to the nest and left him the still warm place on the matress next to Molly and the pup, who were still fast asleep. Doof curled up to his usual fetal position and Fiesta laid next to him on the very brim of the matress. He had to cuddle to his Boss from behind tightly not to lay on the cold ground.  
Doof found his hand and started tapping morse code "its just tonight" "dont like storm"  
"i know," replied Fiesta on his palm. "Sleep tight, you're safe here" he added and shared more of his blanket so Doof could wrap himself in it like a cocoon, the way he liked it. Fiesta, only in his underwear, with only a little bit of blanket to cover himself with tried to sleep, when an icicle landed in his lap. He shrieked a bit, until he realized it was Doof's feet. Of course. I will warm you up.

 

*

He snores? Thought Molly when the annoying sound woke her up. The handsome, noble Fiesta snores like a convoy of V8s. No, no man is perfect. She'll have to look around for some earplugs. She sleepily found his form with her hand. Found his lips - little bit too parched, weren't they more plump? - and she fondled them sexily. The snoring got quiet. She traced his neck down to his chest, and found his nipple, to play with it a little bit. Fiesta stopped snoring completely, but she could hear a ragged breath instead. Also, where were his muscles? He felt skinny. Small. Molly opened her eyes and turned her head towards him. Monstrosity teeth. Ghostly pallor in the moonlight. A face from nightmares an inch from hers. Molly shrieked loudly.  
Everybody woke up. Buckley started coughing, Fiesta - the real Fiesta, dark and bulky- sat up startledly, and Coma - what the hell, she almost harrassed him, what IS HE DOING HERE???!!!- Coma started laughing.

Goddamit. What a night!  
And it's still a long way until morning.


End file.
